


A Potion

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Explicit Language, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-06
Updated: 2007-01-24
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: When Harry accidentaly takes a love potion, he finds himself falling for the last person he expected. Harry/Snape. HPSS





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**A/N: OK. A few things to cover here:**

**?Yes, Snape’s actions will be explained later on.**

**?Yes, Voldemort and the war and such will start coming up (very strongly eventually)**

**?Yeah I know there are some typos. I will fix them.**

**?And I know that they get together rather quickly for some tastes, but that will be explained. I’m not just being an overzealous fangirl, trust me.**

**Disclaimer- Don’t own. Want. Don’t have. Need. Can’t get.**

Chapter 

Harry sat down lazily in the great hall, grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice. He swallowed the contents and twirled the glass around in his hand. He wondered silently if Katie Bell would make them have quidditch practice today. After all, it was a bright, sunny day. Harry felt unnaturally relaxed. Perhaps that was because it was Saturday and he finally had some time to rest after the long week.

Ron sat down next to Harry and began stuffing his face full of sausage and toast. “Mornumph Hurry,” Ron said with a mouthful of eggs.

“Good morning Ron,” Harry replied lethargically. He crossed his arms on the table and laid his head upon them. He was really… tired.

Harry didn’t even raise an eye when the owls came with the morning post. Hermione opened the Daily Prophet and read quietly. She rolled her eyes with annoyance.

“What’s up?” Ron asked, looking up from his fourth piece of toast with blackberry jam.

Hermione sighed and glanced at Harry. “Just more stuff about Harry being ‘The Chosen One’ and all that. Nothing new.” She scanned the rest of the page. “They did arrest a potential Death Eater. Harce Flaghorn.”

“Y’think he is one?” Ron inquired.

Hermione shrugged. “Who knows?”

Harry lifted his head. “Probably not,” he said, “It’s just the Ministry trying to look like they’re doing something. Do they say why they took him in?”

Hermione read the article aloud. “Harce Flaghorn was apprehended at 6:00 on November 16 for possession of numerous dark objects in a public pub.” She looked at Harry and Ron raised a brow. “Dark objects?”

“That’s what it says.” Hermione rolled up the paper and set it aside.

“Hermione!” Hermione turned in surprise as Lavender Brown came running towards her.

“What is it Lavender?” Hermione asked, worried. Lavender was panting and looked on the verge of frantic.

“My love potion!” Lavender gasped, “You know, the one I showed you!”

Ron gave Hermione an odd look. Hermione turned slightly pink and turned back to face Lavender. “What about it?” she asked.

“I can’t find it!” Lavender was practically crying.

“What’s it matter? Get a new one or something,” Ron said, slightly peeved and eager to get back to his breakfast.

Lavender glared. “I came down here with it and got a pumpkin juice. I was about to pour in when Parvati called me and- and I don’t remember if I poured it in or not, but I can’t find my glass to make sure.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with understanding. “Can you at least find the vile?” she asked quickly, standing up.

“What’s the big deal?” Ron looked at them dumbly.

Hermione let out a kind of growl and Ron shrank down into his seat cowardly. “Because,” Hermione spat, “If someone else drinks it then they’ll drink the potion, Ron! That wouldn’t be very good. Who knows what could happen.”

Ron looked at Harry, but Harry was off in a different world. He wasn’t listening to their conversation. In fact, he didn’t even look aware that the conversation was being held at all. He was too busy looking. Looking at Professor Snape.

“Harry!”

Harry woke out of his trance and looked over at Hermione. “What?” he growled. Hermione shrunk back at his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so angry.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “What is it?”

Lavender gasped and pointed to the glass in Harry’s hand. “That’s my glass!” she exclaimed, “I marked it with my lipstick before I left.”

Harry looked odd. “What?” he asked. He had no idea what was going on.

Ron grabbed the glass from Harry’s hand. Sure enough, there was a small line of pink lipstick on the handle.

“Oh no,” Ron groaned.

“What!” Harry was beginning to get peeved. “Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Hermione chastised him.

“Obviously not!” replied Harry, exasperated.

“Lavender put a love potion in there!”

Harry paled. “A love p-potion?” he stammered, “F-for who?”

“For me!” Lavender shouted, making a few Hufflepuff heads turn curiously. “It’s called a Fate potion. It makes you er… notice the person you’re meant to be with. I was going to use it to figure out whom to ask to the school ball. Now what will I do!”

Harry twitched a little. The person you were meant to be with, huh? He looked at Hermione and didn’t feel anything special. Okay. So it wasn’t her. Maybe it would be Ginny or Cho. His brows knotted together as he looked around the great hall and it’s occupants. The first he glimpsed was a girl named Alyssa. No, not her. Then came Ginny, and then Parvati, Cho, Lavender, Neville (thank God it wasn’t him), Katie, Seamus, Priscilla, Dean, Malfoy, McGonnagal, Snape. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. Snape? No, it couldn’t be. He stared, aghast at the potions professor and his jaw began to quiver as if he would burst out crying.

Professor Snape turned and met Harry’s gaze, a look of annoyed curiosity etched in his features.

Harry’s heart jumped into his throat. He tore his eyes away from the professor and looked at his confused friends with desperation. Without a word, Harry stood and took off running out of the hall; turning the heads of quite a few students and a very addled potions master.

Harry burst into the Gryffindor common room appearing quite disquieted. Snape? There was no way he could fall in love with Snape!

Harry paced chaotically. “No. That’s not right!” he said vociferously, “It can’t be! I know! It’s a potion, right? That means it’s not real. It’s just a potion!”

Hermione, Ron, and Lavender ran into the common room. They looked worried.

“Harry,” Hermione cautiously asked her agitated friend, taking a hesitant step towards him, “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong!” Harry shouted back at her, “The bloody potion, that’s what’s wrong!” He turned suddenly to Lavender and grabbed her anxiously by the shoulders. “Tell me,” he panted, “This potion is just a potion right?”

“Well yeah…”

“What I mean is,” Harry tried to regain his composure, “It’s not like you really love the person when you’re under the influence of it right? It’s just a silly love potion. Meaningless?” Harry looked intense.

“N-no,” Lavender stammered, “It’s supposed to make you fall in love with the person you’re meant to be with. Your true love.”

Harry let out an exasperated cry. “No. It can’t be! There must be a glitch or something! He can’t possib-“ Harry stopped short and turned away, flushing a bright red.

“He!” Ron exclaimed, “You’re in love with a he?”

Harry rounded angrily on Ron. “I am not!” he replied defensively.

Ron stifled a giggle and Harry glared daggers at him.

“It’s… it’s just messed up,” Harry said, “It’s bloody wrong. Tampered with or something.” He frowned, looking morosely depressed.

Hermione tried to smile comfortingly. “Maybe Snape has an antidote. We’ll just go-“

“No!” Harry spat vehemently, “I don’t want help from the greasy, old git!”

“Fine!” Hermione looked taken aback, “We’ll try Madam Pomfrey then. She’s bound to have something.”

Harry nodded thoughtlessly and followed her out the portrait hole, repeating the same words continuously in his head. “The potion’s wrong. The potion’s wrong…” It had to be, it just had to. There was no way…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry twisted his fingers together uncomfortably as the potions professor glided quickly into the dungeon classroom. Pomfrey had been able to give him an antidote, but even so, Harry had not been able to look at Snape since.

“Open your books to page three hundred and thirty-seven,” Snape’s throaty voice resounded through the cavernous classroom with an eerie ascendancy.

Harry slowly turned to the indicated page, trying desperately to concentrate on the directions before him. This was something he had never really tried to accomplish in Potions before.

“Today we will be making the Redolence potion,” Snape continued, “Can anyone, besides Miss Granger,” Hermione lowered her hand, crestfallen, “tell me the use of the Redolence potion.” Snape looked around with an agitated expression. “No one? The Redolence potion is a potion that produces a color specific to its brewer’s emotions towards who he is with or what is happening at the moment. Every color means something different. If you all create a proper potion, I may tell you what your color means.” He smirked. “However,” he glanced at Harry, who sunk lower into his seat, “some of you may not like what color your potion possesses.” He turned suddenly and waved his wand at the empty chalkboard. Twisty text appeared on the green surface. “The ingredients are on the board,” he continued lazily, “Instructions are in your book. Get to work.” With that, he strode back to his desk and sat down, busily grading papers.

Harry collected the necessary ingredients and began to brew his potion.

Ron and Hermione exchanged bemused looks as Harry tediously chopped roots, his expression twisted with concentration.

The time came for the potions to be completed and Snape sulked around the room, reading a description of what each student’s potion meant. “Malfoy, winning and talent. Good job indeed.” Draco Malfoy beamed arrogantly. “Longbottom, confusion and stupidity.” Neville frowned sheepishly down at his muddy brown potion. Snape smirked. He continued his voyage around the classroom, inspecting and commenting on every potion. Harry felt his throat tighten and the Professor came near. Snape stopped in front of Harry and peered down his large nose into Harry’s potion. His expression changed for a fleeting moment and he glanced suspiciously at Harry. Without a word, he turned and continued to Ron’s slimy green colored potion, ignoring Harry completely.

“Weasley, you call this a potion?” Harry barely heard as Snape chewed out Ron. Why had Snape passed over him? Was there something wrong with his potion? No. Snape would have made a comment. Harry craned his neck over his cauldron to look at the contents. They were a pinkish red. What the heck did that mean?

“Class dismissed,” Snape said loudly. Harry awoke as if from a trance and picked up his things, quickly hurrying out of the classroom with Ron and Hermione close behind.

“What do you think that was all about?” Ron asked, struggling to keep Harry’s pace, “Snape passed up the opportunity to tell you off about your potion. Has he gone off his knockers?”

“It looked to me,” Hermione interjected, “like Professor Snape didn’t want to say what Harry’s potion meant. He looked kind of uncomfortable.”

“Why would my potion make him uncomfortable?” Harry said through gritted teeth, “He doesn’t get uncomfortable by anything. He’s a cold stone who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. He probably just didn’t have the energy to harass me today.” Harry’s fist knotted into tight balls as he spoke.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Since when does Snape not have the energy to harass you?” Ron inquired.

“Since today, I guess!” Harry replied, “I don’t really care. Let’s just go to lunch okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Hermione and Ron nodded to each other, deciding not to push the subject any further, and followed Harry quietly to the great hall.  
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It had been almost three weeks since Harry had taken the potion. He had done his best to avoid Snape, even in classes, but at points contact with Snape was unavoidable. At these times, Harry took on a quiet, fuming disposition. He hoped that no one had ever seen the blush that tinged his cheeks whenever Snape was near him.

“Detention, Potter,” Snape hissed.

Harry scowled but said nothing, crossing his arms angrily. Malfoy snickered behind him and he grit his teeth together with such force that he thought he felt them crack.

“The rest of you,” Snape turned to the Slytherins in particular, “Class is dismissed.”

Ron and Hermione gave Harry a sympathetic look and pat on the shoulder and followed everyone else out of the dungeons.

“Since you now have a free period, Potter,” Snape turned back to Harry, a sneer twisted contemptuously on his face, “I thought you could spend it here.”

Harry didn’t reply, so Snape continued, “I believe we need to discuss something, Potter.”

Harry looked up as Snape walked in front of Harry’s desk, hands clasped. “Ab-about what, Professor?” Harry asked nervously.

Snape stared at him with an unreadable expression and spoke with a hint of awkwardness in his deep voice. “You’ve been acting more odd than usual,” he said, “I do not know if this strange behavior is limited to my class alone, but I would prefer if you did not bring your personal issues into my dungeons.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound innocent.

Snape rolled his eyes slightly and spoke, his voice laced with severe annoyance. “You know exactly what I mean, Potter. I would appreciate it if you could keep your ridiculous emotions and abnormal attitude out of my classroom.”

“What do you mean by that?” Harry exclaimed angrily, standing up. “Is this about my Redolence potion or something?” He placed his palms on his desk angrily and leaned forward, glaring heatedly at Snape.

“Smart, Potter,” replied Snape, “but that’s not the only strange thing going on with you when you’re here. To be quite frank, your disposition is making me quite unnerved.” He unclasped his hands and placed them on Harry’s desk, leaning dangerously close to him. “I suggest that you get things straight, Potter. Lust, is not a subject in this class at the moment. Talk to whoever it is causing this. I don’t need a hormonal teenager to distract me from my classes.”

Harry was frozen. Lust? What did he mean by that? Harry began to sweat nervously.

Snape stood straight and waved his wand towards the door, causing it to open. “You may go, Potter.”

Harry grabbed his belongings and speed-walked out of the class with a vengeance.

“Distract him?” Harry muttered under his breath, “Why would it distract him? He thinks the problem is because of someone else.” Harry frowned and picked up the pace, turning out towards the Quidditch pitch. He had to get his mind off Snape.  
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry lay in his bed wide-awake. He twirled his wand slowly between his fingers. He couldn’t sleep. Glancing towards his trunk at the end of the bed, he thought of taking his invisibility cloak out for a spin. It was under a bunch of his things, however, and might cause too much noise, waking up one of his fellow Gryffindors. Without much thought, Harry stood and pulled on his trainers. He didn’t bother putting a jacket over his blue pajamas as he quietly walked down the stairs towards the common room. I don’t care if I get caught, he thought, I just want to get out of here.

Slowly, he swung open the portrait against the protests of the Fat Lady and wandered downstairs through the halls. Every now and again, lighting up his route with the lumos spell.

Harry walked aimlessly; corridor through corridor, lost in thought. He thought about Snape, the potion, Quidditch, Ron and Hermione, Snape…

“Potter! What do you think you’re doing?”

Harry looked up suddenly to see Snape, not five feet away from him, pointing a lit wand in his face. Great.

“What are you doing sneaking around the halls at this time of night? Up to something no doubt.” To Harry’s surprise, he didn’t seem all that angry. “Well, answer me.”

Harry sighed. “I’m not sneaking, I’m just walking,” he said contumaciously.

“I don’t need any lip from you, Potter,” Snape replied.

Harry was glad it was dark, or else Snape would have seen the crimson blush that now covered his face. “I-I wouldn’t think to do anything of the sort Professor,” Harry stuttered.

Snape didn’t seem to get the double meaning. “Why are you down here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Snape gave his trademark smirk, “But do you realize that you are breaking school rules by being out of you dorm at night?”

Harry lowered his head. “Yeah. You don’t think I realized that… Professor?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Watch how you speak to me boy!” he growled.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied boldly, his ire rising, “Why don’t you give me detention for it Professor? You seem to enjoy doing that.”

Snape’s face contorted with rage. “Fifty points from Gryffindor,” he spat venomously.

“That’s it? Come on. Take more. You know you want to,” Harry grinned devilishly as he provoked the potions master.

“Potter, I’m warning you-“

“You know you want to,” Harry smirked.

Without warning, Snape grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him violently against the wall. Harry gasped in shock as the Professor angrily pushed him against the wall. “You know… you want to…” Harry breathed.

Without a word, Snape kissed Harry roughly on the lips. Harry thought he would die as the potions professor kissed him passionately, his tongue ravenously exploring Harry’s mouth. Snape ran a hand through Harry’s tousled, black hair and deepened the kiss desperately. Harry lost control and kissed back madly, wrapping his arms around Snape’s waist.

As suddenly as it had happened, Snape pulled away, breathing heavily. Harry struggled to stand as he looked at Snape, who seemed to tremble. “Go…go back to your dorm… Harry,” Snape said weakly. Harry stole one last glance at the professor before taking off down the hall at full speed. What was he going to do now? Would he be expelled? Would Snape hate him even more? Or would Snape want to do it again? Harry was so confused and lost in thought that he didn’t notice Peeves drifting lazily above him.

“Potty’s out of bed,” Peeves cried happily, “What’s Potty doing hmm?”

“Get lost Peeves,” Harry whispered.  
”Oh, Potty’s in a bad mood he is. I might just have to tell Dumby what Potty’s been doing, I might.” He giggled in a high-pitched voice.

“That will not be necessary, Peeves,” came a silky voice from behind Harry.

“It’s Sevy!” Peeved squealed giddily as he flew up threw the ceiling, making a rather inappropriate sound as he left.

“Uh, thanks,” Harry said, bashfully scratching the back of his head.

“Look, Potter,” Snape said. Harry twitched at the use of his last name. “What I did back there. It was wrong. I understand if you report me and will accept full responsibility, but I would prefer if we just didn’t speak about it again. I’m… sorry.”

Sorry? Snape had never apologized to Harry before. Harry tried to smile reassuringly. “I agree,” he replied, “Let’s just forget about it. I won’t report you or anything. After all, I did kinda take part in it.”

Snape nodded and Harry thought he saw a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Very well, Potter.”

Harry frowned. “You think you could call me Harry?”

“Not in class.”

“Yeah, but,” Harry looked at his feet, “I mean. You don’t have to. I just thought it would be nicer if you could call me that.”

“We’ll see…” Snape paused and looked at Harry thoughtfully, “Harry.”

Harry grinned and waved as the professor turned to leave. Then, turning towards his own dorm, he closed his eyes, remembering the feeling and taste of the kiss. He smiled. Little did he know, Snape was thinking about the same thing; and he was smiling as well.  
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The days drug on and Harry continued his normal routine, not daring to tell Ron or Hermione what had happened that night with Snape. Excepting the occasional glance between the two, Harry and Snape had tried to go about things as they usually had, although Snape seemed to lessen the amount his detentions. Harry tried to forget about everything, but he couldn’t help finding himself looking off into space every once and a while thinking about the kiss. Although he was no experienced kisser, he knew enough to know that that was no average everyday kiss.

Even so, Harry knew that it was better not to think about it. Not only were student-teacher relationships forbidden, but Snape was a man and twice his age! It was practically as forbidden as it gets.

Harry jogged lightly towards the changing room to get ready for Quidditch. They were playing Slytherin today.

Harry pulled on his Quidditch robes, grabbed his firebolt and head onto the pitch. Hundreds of people cheered as the teams rose into the air and the game began.

Harry circled overhead, his eyes searching for the snitch, when he caught the eyes of Snape staring up at him. Harry barely had enough time to dodge an oncoming bludger as it viciously flew past his ear. Malfoy was hovering a few feet away, laughing mockingly at him and mimicking Harry’s dodge. Harry scowled and continued to look for the snitch. Then he saw it. It was near the base of the tower that Snape was sitting in, along with a few other Slytherins.

Harry shot down at full speed, Malfoy close behind. The snitch took a sudden turn upwards and turned to shoot across the field at the same level as the tops of the towers. The spectators watched in awe as Harry and Malfoy battled to get the snitch. Malfoy continuously elbowed Harry in the ribs as they raced towards their goal. Harry ignored him. They flew higher and higher until they were just within the sights of the cheering crowd. They both reached for it.

Suddenly, Malfoy slipped off his broom, his eyes wide in shock, and plummeted with a scream towards the ground that was a skyscraper’s height below.

Abandoning the snitch, Harry dove after him as Malfoy’s broom flew away from the pitch. Harry angled his broom straight down, trying desperately not to fall off. He shot like a rocket towards Malfoy whose terrified cries had joined in with the now horrified onlookers. Where was Dumbledore? Harry remembered he had not come to this game for a reason he couldn’t recall. It was up to Harry to save his rival.

The game had stopped and they all watched as Harry grabbed Malfoy’s arm tightly and pulled the now unconscious boy onto his broom. There were cheers. Then pain and cries of terror. Harry slid slowly off his broom, still holding onto Malfoy as he fell to the ground. He hit hard with a sickening crack as Malfoy flew from his grasp. And then there was darkness.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“Hey, I think he’s finally waking up.”

“Oh thank God!”

“Harry?”

Harry’s eyes slowly opened. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna surrounded his bed. They watched him as he took in his surroundings. He was in the hospital wing. “Where…” he groaned. It hurt to speak.

Suddenly, it all came back in a flash. The game. Malfoy falling.

“Harry,” Hermione sat down next to him and gently placed a hand on his. “When you saved Malfoy, you got hit in the side of the head with a bludger. Zabini did it. He hadn’t realized you were there.” A tiny tear ran down Hermione’s cheek.

Ron continued for her. “You fell off your broom. A good sixty feet,” he said, “Your body cushioned Malfoy’s, so you got the worst of it. He’s in here too.” Ron gestured towards a bed across the room. Malfoy lay there, sleeping, covered in bandages. Harry didn’t dare look at himself. He didn’t want to know how bad it was.

“Y-you nearly broke your neck Harry,” Neville stammered, “Most of your ribs, and your legs were broken. Dumbledore saw it from his window and he and Snape brought you to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Snape?” Harry croaked.

“Yeah, as soon as he saw you falling, he took off towards the pitch. He carried you up to the school and Hagrid took Malfoy,” Hermione answered, “Malfoy just broke an arm and an ankle. He got scraped up pretty badly though. You did a brave and noble thing, Harry. He surely would have died if you hadn’t caught him.”

Harry grunted and glanced back over at Malfoy, who was grumbling in his sleep.

“How long?” Harry asked, “How long have I been here?”

Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances.

“How long have I been here?” Harry repeated angrily.

“Well Harry,” Ron started, “You got hit in the head full force with a bludger.”

“What he’s saying is,” Hermione interrupted, “You were knocked into an unconscious state bordering on a coma. You’ve been in here for two weeks.”

Harry was horrified. He’d been unconscious for two weeks! That meant he had slept through the rest of the first semester! The year was more than half way gone!

“Why is Malfoy still here?” Harry asked, “He didn’t get hit in the head with anything.”

This time, it was Ginny who answered. “Madam Pomfrey let him out five days after you two got here,” she said, “He was still in bad condition. He decided to be and idiot and show off. He fell down the stairs.”

Ron stifled a laugh and Harry grinned. “Git,” he said. But the insult didn’t have the hate that it usually bore. After all, he had just risked his life for Malfoy.

Madam Pomfrey entered the room and hurriedly shooed away Ron and Hermione from Harry’s bed. “Gracious you’re awake!” she exclaimed. “I always said you’d be just fine. All thanks to mine and Professor Snape’s potions!” She stripped Harry of his covers and began poking at his legs, mumbling incomprehensibly. Harry smiled up at his friends. They nodded and turned to go.

“See you later Harry,” Ron said.

“Glad you’re okay,” Ginny waved.

Hermione pat Harry on the shoulder. “Bye Harry.”

Harry waved as his friends left and turned to a rather hyper looking Madam Pomfrey. “Well how does your head feel?” she asked, surveying him carefully.

“Um, it kind of hurts a little,” Harry replied earnestly.

“Well of course it would!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, “You got a bludger straight to it! Violent game, Quidditch. I don’t know why the headmaster allows you all to play.” She hmphed and turned to pour a clear colored liquid into a cup. “Drink this,” she said firmly, handing the cup to Harry. Harry eyed the contents suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like the one that grows bones. It tastes rather pleasant. It’s for your headache. Surely you have a headache?” She eyed Harry severely.

Harry nodded and swallowed down the thick liquid. It tasted a lot like cough medicine.

“You can leave tomorrow if you’re up to it,” Madam Pomfrey took the now empty glass from Harry and bottled up the medicine. “I need you to stay here at least one more day.”

With that, Madam Pomfrey turned and walked back to her office.

Harry sighed and relaxed into his pillow, drifting of into a troubled sleep.  
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry woke to someone continuously poking at his arm.

“Bloody hell,” he moaned. It was still pitch black out.

“No need to use such language, Potter,” said a deep, throaty voice.

Harry’s eyes snapped open. “P-professor?”

Professor Snape was sitting in a chair pulled up next to Harry’s bed. His black robe hung loosely around his shoulders. He looked on serenely with an expression of… was that worry? “Yes,” he replied, “Heard you woke up, Harry.”

“Why are you here?” Harry asked. He moved to sit up against the back of the bed.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” said Snape, “I’m just here because you saved a member of my house. For that, I am grateful. And honestly surprised.”

Harry looked at Snape, his expression steady and somber. “Is that the only reason you came?”

Snape sighed and laced his fingers together. “I thought we talked about this,” he said, “You are my student, nothing more.” He looked as if it pained him to say such words.

“You’re the one who started it!” Harry said, upset.

“Me? You’re the one who ogled me every potions class!” Snape retorted.

Harry glared. “I didn’t ogle!” he ejaculated angrily.

“That’s not the point,” Snape reached a hand towards Harry. He stopped mid air and let his arm hang there. “You know it would be inappropriate, not to mention against the law and the rules of this school. I could get fired, you expelled.” His arm fell back to his side.

“Then why are you here?” Harry persisted, “Why did you come if that was all you could say. All that could happen?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned towards Snape. “You’re telling me you don’t want this?” Quickly, he cupped Snape’s face in his hands and kissed him tenderly. Snape kissed back. Harry had gotten his proof. He pulled back and looked at Snape, a look of sheer determination etched in every line of his face.

Snape brushed Harry’s hands off his face and looked away. “Potter…”

“Harry.”

“Don’t tempt me, Harry.”

Harry grinned slightly. “That’s my goal.”

“You know the consequences.” The professor turned to him.

“Yes, I do,” Harry replied bluntly.

“You don’t care?”

“No, I don’t.”

“About any of it?” The potions master looked doubtful. “The age difference, the sexuality, the rules, the moral?”

“I’ve always seemed to have a knack for walking through forbidden territory,” Harry answered.

Snape smiled. It was a look that was actually quite handsome on him. “Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but I guess I’ll be seeing you later.”

Harry nodded and looked at his covers. “So what does this mean exactly?” he asked, wringing his hands together nervously.

“I guess it means that our relationship is in for a drastic change, Potter,” Snape sneered at him characteristically and then smiled.

“Does that mean I can kiss you if I want?” Harry blushed as Snape looked at him.

“If no one’s looking.”

Harry smirked and asked, “Is anyone looking?”

Snape grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled their faces close together. “Let’s hope not.”  
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Snape and Harry’s odd affair had been going on for six weeks now. They had easily disguised their ‘rendezvous’ as detentions or potion tutoring. Harry had even used his invisibility cloak to sneak to the professor at night. Snape kept up his normal sneer in class, but no one seemed to notice the fervent gazes that were exchanged when people had their backs turned.

The two had gone no further than kissing and tender caresses, and neither one was close to gathering up the nerve to take the relationship to the next level of intimacy. Even so, for the moment, they seemed content. At least that’s how they liked to perceive it. In fact, their courting had caused a great deal of stress. Constantly having to hide their affection and terrified they would be caught, Harry and Snape often quarreled over mediocre things. However, their gravitation towards each other was much stronger than such disagreements, and they always ended up back in each other’s arms again. Snape had even agreed to let Harry call him Severus when they were alone.

“Severus,” Harry breathed, pulling away reluctantly from a kiss. He was panting heavily. They had been going at it for quite a while.

“Yes, Harry?” Snape had a slight flush to his skin, adding color to his usually pale face.

“Nothing,” Harry replied, “I just like to say your name.” Harry grinned and leaned forwards to kiss the potions master.

They were in Snape’s classroom in the dungeons. Snape’s robe was flung across the room and Harry’s were loosely hanging off his shoulders. Harry snaked his hand in between the buttons of his teacher’s shirt, stroking the surprisingly soft skin beneath lightly. Harry had learned rather quickly that a great deal of Snape’s bulk was actually caused by his overly sized robe; and once he was rid of the burdensome clothing, he was unquestionably lean and fit.

Harry had pushed Snape up against his desk and he stood between his legs, his arms wrapped around Snape’s neck and hands resting in his not greasy but velvety hair.

Snape ran his hands underneath Harry’s robes casually, sliding his long fingers up the back of Harry’s shirt. Pulling his mouth away from Harry’s, he moved to his neck, licking sensually and sucking tenderly on his earlobe.

Harry smiled and groaned. It was a surprisingly loud groan, and Snape quickly realized why. Then he found out he had the same problem. He put his hands firmly on either side of Harry’s waist and pushed him away gently.

“Come on,” Harry groaned, rather displeased.

“You know we can’t,” Snape said.

“Why not?” Harry inquired. He was dangerously close to whining. “We’ve been together for more than a month and a half. Let’s take it up a notch.” This was the first time either had said anything about this.

Snape knit his brows together and replied, “That’s not long enough. And besides, we’re already risking things enough as it is.”

“So we’ll get in less trouble for just kissing?” Harry crossed his arms defiantly, “It’s all the same to the rules. Any sexual interaction whatsoever is enough for the full penalty. Even a kiss! What difference does it make? If we’re caught, we’re dead anyway.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “That makes me feel so much better about it, Harry,” he answered sarcastically.

“What I’m saying, is what do we have to lose?” Harry moved his hips forward before Snape could stop him. Snape couldn’t help but let out a moan. “I know you want it,” Harry said seductively. He could tell Snape was unsure of himself.

Wordlessly, Harry pulled out of the professor’s grasp and went to kneel before him.

“Harry,” Snape protested.  
Harry ignored him and began to unbutton his pants, pulling down the zipper.

“Harry, don’t.”

“Please don’t.”

“This is a mistake.”

“We’ll be sorry for this.”

“Good Lord, don’t stop!”

Harry had won the battle.

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**So chapter one of my first ever Harry/Snape fic from way back when. XD Chapters ahead aren’t nearly as long as this, but they’re not short either and my writing really improves over the months of practice.**

**Thank you very much for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it!**

**If you have any questions or want to know when my next update time is, please go to my forums that can be found here: http://www.fanfiction.net/f/866162/.**


	2. 2

  
Author's notes: When Harry accidentaly takes a love potion, he finds himself falling for the last person he expected. HarrySnape. HPSS  


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Chapter 2

Severus Snape sat quietly in his chair, contemplatively twirling his wand over his middle and forefinger. His cheeks grew hot as he looked back complacently on the previous nights happenings. He had always thought Harry to be an excellent kisser, improving with each time they snogged, but he had not fathomed to dream about the other ways the boy’s mouth could be skilled. And his mouth was indeed more skilled than imaginable. Snape shivered and smiled with satisfaction.

Of course it had crossed his mind that they had gone too far, too fast; that they should have waited longer. This was most definitely a most worrisome dilemma. He had continuously berated himself for allowing Harry to go through with it. Why hadn’t he stopped himself? He was an adult, he knew better. Snape frowned and shook his head. He knew no better than a toddler when he was with Harry. The boy had the irritating ability to relax him past the point of lethargy. He was content with Harry. Admitting to that, however, brought up another question. This question was truly a serious one to be taken into speculation. He’d mulled it over in his head constantly. ‘Do I love him?’ Then there was the other question that always preceded this one, ‘Does he love me?’

Their relationship was escalating quickly, and Snape sincerely doubted that he would be able to restrain himself from more intimate endeavors for much longer. He told himself that it was Harry who was not ready to take the next step. It was Harry that was unsure. He knew this was not the truth. It was Snape himself who was questioning things. He was nervous, and dare he admit it, afraid. He didn’t quite understand it. He wanted to make love to Harry. Yes, this much was true. But he wanted it to be meaningful. He wanted it to be powerful and real. He had never had anything real in his life. The Dark Lord had mercilessly yanked all the meaning and love from his life. Going back and forth as Dumbledore’s personal lapdog, he had ever fully recovered. Now Harry had showed him tenderness. Harry wanted him as no other person had wanted him before. The thought was wonderfully astounding and incomprehensibly frightening. If he did something wrong, he could drive Harry away forever. He could lose his one chance at finally being happy and loved. If he admitted to loving Harry, he would have shed himself of his protective clothing. He would be out in front of the Boy Who Lived; naked and vulnerable. One false move; one change of thought, and Harry could snap him like a twig.

A soft knock sounded on the dungeon door. Snape looked up and felt his stomach twist as Harry walked into the room, smiling.

“Hello, Severus,” Harry’s eyes shone with warmth.

Suddenly, Snape knew. The questions stopped spinning around in his head as he gazed upon Harry. Now he knew the answer. He felt it. It consumed him and left him enraptured by his own emotion and gratified in every sense. He loved Harry. He loved him from the deepest core of his soul. Every fiber of his being cried out for boy in front of him. The man in front of him. He loved him with a desperation that surpassed every desire ever to course through his worn veins. He loved Harry Potter.

He was not afraid. He stood up and rounded his desk, looking upon the beloved face of his other. It was time. Time to take the chance that he could fail. The chance that things could end and he could be left wounded, dying in the darkest corners of the abyss of heartbreak. It was time to become vulnerable and trust in something other than his own cold, hardened exterior. He was sick of being left behind as everyone enjoyed their lives of happiness and pleasure. It was his turn. He didn’t want to be left out anymore. Taking Harry tenderly into his arms, he whispered the three words that would undoubtedly be his end. Harry stiffened, then relaxed. Snape tensed with trepidation, waiting for a reply. And then it came. The whole world seemed to turn upside down and time stopped. All that was dirty and foul in the world vanished as if it had all been an illusion to dilute you from the truth. The apparitions called pain, and sadness, and anger left; gone without a trace and never to return. The world was righted in this moment of bliss as Harry spoke his answer. His crystalline voice resounded hypnotically within Snape’s frozen mind, melting away the cold ice that had once protected him from the dangers of reality. Snape shook with an uncharacteristic emotion as the words registered slowly. So this was reality. The feeling was unbearable. He wanted to rip his heart from his chest and throw it as afar away from him as possible to rid himself of the overwhelming emotion. It felt so much like pain. An intense fire sparked to life within his very soul and he struggled to comprehend; knowing full well he could not even begin to understand. No matter how difficult the next part was going to be. Even if the rest of his life would not suffice to help him to grasp this knowledge. It had been enough to hear these words.

Harry, unwavering and earnest, sighed ardently and replied, “With all my heart, I love you too.”

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**Short, sweet, concise. I wanted to show how Sev felt before I continued.**


	3. 3

  
Author's notes: When Harry accidentaly takes a love potion, he finds himself falling for the last person he expected. HarrySnape. HPSS  


* * *

Chapter 3

Harry wandered tumultuously down a crowded corridor, not bothering to smile at his friends as they greeted him. He needed somewhere to go and think. The past few weeks had been so chaotic that he had found it difficult to accept everything that had happened.

Harry stumbled into an abandoned classroom and flung himself haphazardly into a nearby desk. He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully and considered the month’s happenings. He felt his stomach give a heave as his thoughts strayed to Snape. He formerly most hated professor had now become his boyfriend. Harry had been eager to jump into Snape’s arms once he realized that he had feelings for the man, but that was what worried him. It had all happened rather quickly. Why had he so readily gone into this relationship with someone he thought he once hated? What’s more is that Snape had also been quite enthusiastic, excepting a few quiet protestations devoid of any conviction. Harry had not expected him to agree so quickly, nor had he expected himself to want to trespass into such dangerous territory so enthusiastically. What had come over them? Had they gone completely bloody insane? Harry grunted in disagreement with his thoughts. No, they weren’t crazy. He knew this much. He could not deny that he felt something, if not a great deal, for Snape. The question was, how much did he feel for the potions master? Were his affections limited only to infatuation, or was it something a little more complicated?

Harry tapped the desk with his fingers loudly, looking quite ill tempered. And since when was he gay anyway? He didn’t remember ever giving another bloke a second look. Plus, there had been Cho Chang, right? He was pretty sure that she wasn’t a guy. Maybe this was all wrong. He had heard unnerving rumors about teenage hormones and what they can do. Perhaps Snape was only the easiest option to satisfy his hormonal urges.

“No, that’s not possible!” Harry exclaimed aloud, only to sink down into the desk, embarrassed and grateful that no one was present to witness his slight outburst. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Snape was by no means an easy choice. If he had wanted easy he could have tried to get back together with Cho or even given Hermoine a shot. And if he was indeed gay, who knows what Seamus or Neville would say. People lined up to be with the great Harry Potter.

It was something else. There was a different reason why he had chosen Snape, the dark, cold, angry, wanna-be Dark Arts teacher, head of Slytherin potions master who lived down in the dungeons. It was not hormones, lust, or lack of a better choice. There was something warm that had stirred deep within Harry every time he looked at the older man. He felt protected and challenged at the same time. Snape had been one of the only people who hadn’t treated him like a hero or a marvel. In fact, he had treated him quite the opposite. Although he had chastised him and critiqued him for numerous things, he had also been there to help Harry when he needed. He had been there when Quirrel had cursed his broomstick, when Harry needed occlumency lessons, and he had even helped Lupin with his potions and spied for Dumbledore (two people who meant a great deal to Harry). Snape had done many things for him, and the whole time he had told Harry how he wasn’t good enough and how he was so much like his father. No matter how many times Snape insulted, punished, or glared at him, Harry knew that when it came down to it, Snape would protect him to the very end. That was why Harry had turned to him. He had always liked the more complicated relationships, it seemed. Snape knew what Harry really was. He knew that he was no god and yet he still took him in and showed him tenderness and understanding. Harry needed that patient respect and perceptive intimacy. Snape cared for him like no one else did. Harry thanked him for that. He accepted him and he appreciated him. He would stand by Harry’s side in the darkest of days. Even as the fame faded and his infamous legacy found its way tucked away on textbook pages, Snape wouldn’t care. None of that had ever mattered. Harry loved him for that, and as he walked into Snape’s classroom and was taken affectionately into his arms, he tensed as all the feelings of love, warmth, and compassion consumed him and he felt himself rise to the heavens. With an elated emotion that he had never before experienced, Harry listened as Snape spoke the words that would forever haunt him till the end of his days. With fervent candor he spoke the words that had lived in his soul and dominated his mind for, seemingly, all eternity.

“With all my heart, I love you too.”

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**Well, what do you guys think? I know it’s not as emotional as Snape’s point of view, but I wanted to show a different array of emotions in Harry. I hope you all liked it. I just wanted to cover a bit of both their feelings, but don’t worry, what’s going on in the world around them will come up next.**


	4. 4

  
Author's notes: When Harry accidentaly takes a love potion, he finds himself falling for the last person he expected. HarrySnape. HPSS  


* * *

**Warning: This chapter is rated a high PG-13 or R-ish. It has some cussing (obviously it contains male/male) and other stuff in it, so beware! well… this is when it starts turning M anyways….**

**Oh. And by now hopefully you’ve figured out that this takes place in the sixth year. Everything in the 5th book happened, but this is a nice little world of mine where the 6th book never existed. Ah, lovely fantasies….**

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Chapter 4

It had now been three months to the day since the Quidditch accident, and Malfoy had still not thanked Harry. Then again, Harry had expected nothing more. His relationship with Snape had continued to escalate and although Ron was oblivious to all his surroundings, Hermione had noticed Harry’s strange behavior.

Harry sat innocently at a table in the Gryffindor common room, writing an essay about the alignment of Jupiter and Venus meaning the end of the world for his Divination class when Hermione sat next to him purposefully. Harry looked up, startled. “Yeah?” he asked.

Hermione ignored him and seized the essay, scrutinizing it in her usual manner. She frowned and took out her wand. With a few taps to the paper she handed it back to him. “There,” she sighed, “You really are dreadful at spelling Harry.”

“Uh… thanks,” Harry muttered.

Hermione nodded absently and rolled her eyes, turning to stare out the window of the tower. “Honestly,” she began, and Harry braced himself, “I don’t know why you and Ron still take that ridiculous class. It’s all just a load of rubbish!” She crossed her arms heatedly.

Harry looked to Ron for aid, but he was entranced in a game of wizard’s chess with Seamus. He had not even heard their conversation. Harry was alone and defenseless. Hermione was obviously in a ranting mood.

“So, Harry, who is it?” Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry sat, speechless. A peculiar mood is more like it. What the bloody hell did she mean by that? She couldn’t possibly know about Snape. Harry felt his heart seize and he held his breath unknowingly. She couldn’t possibly!

Hermione sat next to him with an astute expression. Harry could have sworn he saw a slight smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “So,” she repeated in a lowered voice, leaning in to Harry as he leaned backwards, “Who is this lucky girl you’ve been sneaking of to see?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry stammered unconvincingly.

Hermione exhaled shortly and replied sagaciously, “Oh don’t try to pull that with me Harry. You should know by now that you can’t outsmart me.”

Harry paled and attempted to swallow. This was quite difficult because he couldn’t remember how.

“Plus,” Hermione continued, “I’ve seen you sneaking out.”

“But I used my invisibility cl-” Harry cut himself off, but it was too late. He had just admitted to sneaking out. Oh, he was a fool.

Hermione grinned victoriously and poked Harry in the shoulder. “So, who is it? Why haven’t you told me and Ron?”

Harry groaned inwardly. Fuck, he was caught. It wasn’t the total end. Hermione knew he was seeing someone, but she didn’t know who. The only problem now was that Hermione would tell Ron, and they would follow him everywhere. They might have been slow to notice Harry had a secret, but they weren’t stupid. They would figure it out eventually. What in the name of Merlin would he do when that time came? What would he tell them?

‘Yeah, the Gryffindor hating, greasy git Professor Snape is my boyfriend.’ Harry laughed before he could stop himself. Yeah, that would go off really well. Ron would blast his head in. Hermione could have a heart attack. He could see it now. Hermione never speaking again, Ron losing his sanity and sitting in a couch chair all day asking how much potatoes cost in Denmark.

Yes. That would be brilliant. Harry would rather suffer a kiss from dementors than tell Ron and Hermione about Snape. If he told them, there wouldn’t be a Ron and Hermione.

Harry began to sweat nervously. “Um, well, I’m not seeing some girl, Hermione,” Harry began, that much was true, the next part was the lie, “I’m- I’m going to Occlumency lessons with Snape again.” Harry blurted this out desperately. It was the first thing that had come to his mind. Why not? It would explain his going to Snape’s at night and Hermione and Ron wouldn’t tell anyone. It was perfect.

“Why would the Professor have you breaking the rules and curfew to go to lessons?” Hermione asked, “Couldn’t he just have you come after supper?”

Harry shook his head but remained silent. Hermione looked at him curiously, waiting for an answer. “Well Dumbledore didn’t want anyone to notice that I was going anywhere. He… thought it was better if no one knew anything.”

Hermione nodded in agreement and Harry relaxed.

“Why didn’t you tell us Harry?”

Harry jumped and let out a small yelp. Ron was standing behind him. His flaming red hair and freckled cheeks shone brilliantly in the firelight of the common room. He was grinning wildly and Seamus was quietly fuming across the room. So Ron had won the game. “Well,” he repeated, “Why didn’t you tell us? I could understand not telling anyone else, but why not us?”

“Like I said, Dumbledore just thought it was better if it was kept a secret,” Harry replied, “So don’t tell anyone okay?”

“Of course we won’t tell anyone Harry!” Hermione answered loyally. Ron nodded and gestured over towards the chessboard. “Care for a game of Wizard’s Chess Harry?”

Harry got up and joined Ron at the table. Ron looked over to Harry sympathetically and gave him a pitying smile.

“What?” Harry asked, annoyed.

“I was just thinking,” Ron said, “It must be Hell to have to spend every night with that greasy old git!” He laughed.

Harry flushed and laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, it sure is,” he replied.

Ron turned back to the game and gave a command to one of his knights. Harry felt his heart sink as he watched the piece slide across the board. He hated lying to Ron and Hermione. They were his best friends. If they couldn’t be honest with each other, then were they true friends? Harry didn’t deserve them. This wasn’t what he wanted to be. He was a famous prodigy who lied to his friends and fucked his professors. He didn’t deserve to live.

Harry found himself gazing into the dancing flames in the hearth, wishing that Voldemort would floo to the Gryffindor common room and just finish him off. He was sick of being the Boy Who Lived. He was sick of the prophecy, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and every one who hated and worshipped him. He just wanted to be normal. Not famous. Not rich. Not in love with his professor. And not destined to save the world. Why did it have to be him? The memory of his mother’s scream came rushing back to him. Watching as her body fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. The flash of blinding green light. He knew why. His mother had died for him, and he could not let her down. He may have not asked to live, but he had, and he had to survive. He had to avenge his parents’ death.

Even if he didn’t want to kill anyone, he knew that when it came down to it in the end, he would. He would not leave everyone he loved to die. No. That just wouldn’t do.

Harry shrugged. Well, saving the world was all good and fine, but right now there was something more important to concentrate on: winning the chess game. Harry let out a cry as Ron whooped, “Checkmate!” Well, maybe not winning the game.

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“So they suspect something, eh?” Severus Snape asked casually as he placed bottles with unidentifiable contents evenly on the shelves of his cupboard, “It took them long enough. I knew Weasley wasn’t bright, but even Granger couldn’t figure it out? Come now, I overestimated them, and I don’t overestimate people.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I think you do the opposite. And they haven’t figured it out. They just think I’m acting strange. I told them that I was taking Occlumency lessons again.” Harry rubbed his arm nervously. He still felt dreadful about lying.

Snape turned, his eyebrows raised slightly. “Really?” he asked, a small hint of respect in his voice, “I didn’t think you had it in you to lie to your friends, Potter.” He drug out Harry’s name torturously; he knew it annoyed him when they were alone and he said his last name. A fake sneer curled across his lips. “I admire your deceit.”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Oh shut up,” he retorted.

Snape glided slowly across the floor towards Harry, standing to his full height and towering above Harry. “Watch your tongue boy. You forget I’m your teacher.” He crossed his arms with authoritarian grace and frowned down at Harry.

Harry paused, then grinned. He began to play along. Cowering below the tall, dark professor, his lower lip quivered and he stuttered a reply. “I-I’m sorry p-professor,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to. You’re not gonna give me a detention are you?” He placed his hands on his cheeks as if the thought had horrified him.

Snape sneered and leaned down, arms still crossed, and stopped when his face was within inches of Harry’s. “You bet I’m giving you detention,” he hissed seductively. Harry shivered. “And it will be a detention you’ll not soon forget.” He brushed his lips teasingly over Harry’s. Harry groaned. “Don’t be so mean, Severus,” he complained.

Snape grinned and waved his wand towards the dungeon door, casting a locking and silencing charm. “That’s Professor to you boy. And I’ll be as mean as I want. This is, after all, detention. It’s time to reprimand you for your insolence.”

Snape grabbed Harry by his waist and hoisted him up onto the teacher’s desk. He laid Harry down upon the desk, brushing papers aside. He removed his robes to reveal a stunning white-collared shirt and black pants. Harry had found quite early on in their relationship that Snape was thin, but very fit, and looked brilliant in muggle clothing.

Snape lifted himself onto the desk and straddled Harry. He tore off Harry’s robes and tossed them aside. Unbuttoning Harry’s shirt, he ran his hands tenderly up the boy’s abdomen. Harry shuddered and moaned; his pants were already tight.

“Patience boy,” Snape whispered. He leaned forwards and kissed Harry’s navel gently. He stuck his tongue in the tiny hole and ran it along Harry’s well-defined stomach, stopping at the crevice in Harry’s neck to taste it delicately.

Harry unbuttoned a few buttons on Snape’s shirt, leaving it tucked in and the collar still buttoned. He twisted his arms around Snape’s back, savoring the feeling of his warm skin against his palms. He ran his fingers along the intricate scars that were embedded deeply in his lover’s skin. He did not ask what they were from, for he knew. No doubt his childhood and years as Voldemort’s slave had not left him without any mark to show for it.

Harry gasped as Snape’s tongue slid slowly into his mouth, taking its time as it licked Harry’s inner lip and tongue. Harry returned the favor and placed one hand on the back of Snape’s head, forcing their heads closer together. He roamed Snape’s mouth desperately, looking for new tastes and flavors. He didn’t even notice when Snape removed his shirt and pants. Snape, still fully clothed, rubbed sensuously up against Harry, causing the boy to moan and whisper huskily, “Oh God, keep doing that.”

Snape obliged and moved against Harry slowly, painfully, until he was sure that he could no longer stand having his pants on. He undressed with impressive speed and let out a sigh of pleasure as he and Harry touched, skin-to-skin.

He loved detentions.

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Harry walked contentedly out of Snape’s office, trying to hide the grin that was forcibly consuming his face. He donned his invisibility cloak and walked slowly down the corridor towards the stairs. He halted suddenly as he heard voices heading towards him. Dodging behind a suit of armor so as not to be bumped into, Harry watched as Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge rounded the corner, talking in hushed voices.

“This truly is a beautiful school, Albus,” Fudge marveled, gazing around the large corridor. Although this was a happy statement, Fudge looked rather ill and depressed.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yes, indeed it is, Cornelius, but I do not believe that is why you are here. Am I right? Or are you truly just here to marvel at the tapestries?”

Fudge slumped and nodded, looking defeated. “Yes. You are correct I’m afraid. I have come bearing dismal news. It concerns one of your students, Hermione, um, Hermione Granger. Yes, that’s it.”

Harry started. What about Hermione? He didn’t like where this was going.

Dumbledore looked equally disturbed. “What is this trouble, Cornelius? You must tell me at once what is wrong.”

Yeah, Harry agreed silently, What about Hermione?

Fudge sighed and scratched his balding head uncomfortably. “I’m afraid her parents have been killed. Murdered. It was a Death Eater’s doing.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Oh no! This was terrible. Hermione’s parents, killed? Why had the Death Eater’s attacked them, of all people? His heart sank as he thought of Hermione. She loved her parents so much.

Dumbledore looked severely troubled. “Oh dear. This is terrible business,” he sighed, “Any idea why they chose them Cornelius?”

Fudge glanced around and leaned in closer to Dumbledore. Harry strained to hear the reply, leaning forward and almost losing his balance.

“I believe it’s because of Harry Potter,” Fudge whispered, “I’ve been told he’s very close to Granger. I have a feeling that You-Know-Who is trying to indirectly hurt the boy by getting to his friends. An evil thing to do.”

Harry’s face contorted with rage. Voldemort had killed his parent, Sirius, and now Hermione’s parents. Hadn’t that bastard done enough already!

“Then, if that is the case, we must warn the Weasleys,” Dumbledore said.

Harry tensed, he had forgotten about them. He clenched his fists. If Voldemort dared to touch any of them… They were like his family. They had taken him in when he was in need and had watched over him. They were there for him when no one else was.

“Yes, of course,” Fudge replied hastily, “I shall immediately inform the Aurors that they need protection,” He turned to leave, “There is no time to waste. Safety is of utmost importance in these dire times. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“Very true.” Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Thank you for your visit, Cornelius. Please see to it that the Weasleys are well protected.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Fudge muttered, “Goodbye Albus.” He waved distractedly and flew out the front door swiftly, muttering along the way.

Dumbledore turned to leave, but he stopped and spoke loudly. “I will free you and Mr. Weasley of your classes tomorrow. Please take care of Hermione. Can I trust you to tell her?” He turned and eyed Harry, his expression unreadable.

Harry colored. He had forgotten that Dumbledore could see him even with his invisibility cloak. Harry nodded. His emotions were going haywire. He had no idea how he would tell Hermione. He knew that it would, by far, be one of the most difficult things he would ever have to do.

Dumbledore smiled gravely and turned quickly. He walked down the hall and continued out of sight, leaving Harry to think of all that he had just learned. Hermione’s parents were dead. Ron’s were in danger. And it was all his fault. It was his fault because Voldemort wanted to get to him. He wanted to hurt him. And he would hurt everyone Harry loved to do so.

Harry cupped his face with his hands and sank to the floor as tears ran steadily down his face. It was all his fault. He was the reason everyone was dying. He was the reason that everyone was in danger. Harry held back a sob and began to shiver convulsively. Everyone would be better off without him. He was only a danger to all who were around him. All because Voldemort couldn’t get over the fact that he couldn’t kill a baby. Because of some damn prophecy Voldemort had destroyed Harry’s life. Harry scowled as he wiped his face and stood up, still shaking. Voldemort would pay. That stupid, evil bastard would pay if it was the last thing Harry ever did. Harry would make sure he suffered, like he, himself, had suffered. It was time to stop fooling around. Harry couldn’t just let Voldemort have his way. Next time Voldemort or his goons were dumb enough to show their faces, Harry would find them. And he would destroy them.

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**Oh, and thanks everybody who is reviewing this! I love you all! Except for those of you who I don’t love. Sorry for that.**


	5. 5

_Previously in 'A Potion':_

_Voldemort would pay. That stupid, evil bastard would pay if it was the last thing Harry ever did. Harry would make sure he suffered, like he, himself, had suffered. It was time to stop fooling around. Harry couldn’t just let Voldemort have his way. Next time Voldemort or his goons were dumb enough to show their faces, Harry would find them. And he would destroy them._

**Parsletongue is in bold.**

Chapter 5

Hermione sat with the air of a stone. Her face was blank. She stared quietly out across the lake, silent as the grave.

“’Mione?” Ron asked nervously. He was terribly worried, but who wouldn’t be? Harry had told him last night about Hermione’s parents. It was horrible, yes, but if it made him feel that bad, then how would it affect Hermione? He knew now that it would be even worse than he had previously imagined. As he stared helplessly after his silent friend, he knew she would never be the same.

Harry said nothing. He merely stoked Hermione’s stiff back comfortingly. He knew what it was like to lose your parents.

Suddenly, Hermione tore away from Harry’s grasp with an agonizing cry. She ran away across the grounds, wailing with such a pained emotion such as Harry or Ron had never heard before.

“”Mione!” Ron shouted hoarsely, turning to Harry, “We have to stop her, Harry!” Harry nodded and they took off without another word towards their distressed companion.

Hermione ran haphazardly past Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. Ron groaned and Harry ran faster.

“Hermione please!”

Hermione clenched her fists tightly as she ran, her tears streaming rapidly down her face. She had known, or at least she had feared. She knew that being Harry’s friend, especially such a close one, came with a price. She knew that she, herself, had been in danger, but her parents? She had never thought, never expected… She choked out another sob and closed her eyes. Before she could catch herself, she tripped over a protruding tree root and fell violently down towards the ground. She landed on her elbows with a crunch and winced as she felt her skin rip open.

“Hermione!” Ron and Harry ran up next to her, helping her up carefully. They didn’t ask if she was okay, for they knew the answer. She wasn’t okay. How could she be? No one in their right mind could possibly be okay after this. She would recover, eventually, but this would always haunt her for the rest of her days.

And it was Harry’s fault.

It was all his fault.

Because of him, she was in this pain.

Harry cursed himself angrily and shuddered as he felt fresh tears fall across his cheeks. He had caused Hermione pain. He couldn’t bare it. He couldn’t stand himself. He grimaced at his overflowing emotions; the anger, remorse, and pain. Why him? Why he have to be the hero and the villain at the same time? Dammit! Why! He bit his lip, accidentally causing it to bleed. He pulled Hermione’s arm over his shoulder and waited as Ron did the same.

They supported Hermione, who was once again quiet and expressionless, as they walked in silence back to the castle, both praying that they could do something to help their hurting friend.  
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Harry rest lightly against Severus’s scarred, white chest, savoring his warmth and pulling the covers more closely around them. Severus stroked Harry’s hair absently and gazed off into the flickering fire lit distance, lost in thought. Suddenly, he chuckled softly.

Harry started. “What is it Sev?” he asked lethargically. After much debate and a lot of Severus throwing him out of the dungeons, Severus had finally agreed to let Harry call him Sev.

Severus smiled, a sight that a very small few have ever been lucky enough to witness. A secret joke glowed mirthfully in his dark obsidian eyes. “I was just thinking…” He said slowly, “Of the look on the Headmaster’s face if he were to walk in right now.”

Harry giggled as he pictured the image. Yes that would be quite a sight. “Yeah,” he snickered, “Imagine what he would do if he saw his precious Potter in the arms of Severus Snape.”

Severus’s eyebrows rose. He had never heard Harry refer to himself in such a manner. He let it pass. “I was thinking more a long the lines of me actually stroking someone and not choking them.”

At this Harry laughed. He fell into a pensive silence. Severus knew he wanted to ask something. He also knew that Harry had to offer the question. He didn’t like it when people pried.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Sev?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“Why what? Be more specific Harry.” Severus gazed down into his lover’s eyes, not being able to hold back a slight look of curiosity.

“Why did you… kiss me? The first time, I mean. In the corridor,” Harry sputtered out nervously.

Severus thought on this a moment. Why? He supposed it was because he loved the boy. No, he hadn’t known that back then. “Besides the constant ogling and the potion you made?” he inquired teasingly.

“I did not ogle!” Harry huffed defiantly, “And what do you mean the potion? That pink one? What did the color represent anyways?”

“It represented lust and love,” Severus replied, “I found that rather… disquieting at first.”

“Both lust and love?” Harry looked dubious.

Severus rolled his eyes. “The potion can represent more than one emotion you dimwit.” Although it was an insult, he said it lovingly.

Harry nodded.

“So as I was saying,” Severus continued, “If you mean besides the constant ogling,” Harry’s face flushed but he did not speak, “and the potion, then I would have to say it was simply because I wanted to. Honestly, I had never been more attracted to anyone in my entire life, and I didn’t know what to do. It was beyond my control.”

Harry chortled agreeably. “You’re telling me the great, dark, Potions Master Severus Snape lost control?” He grinned.

Severus sneered his customary sneer and glared down at Harry. “Yes,” he said, “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He kissed Harry tenderly for a moment. “And I would have it no other way.”

Harry smiled broadly and wrapped his arms around Severus’s neck, kissing him languidly. He leaned back onto the pillows and sighed.

“What’s wrong now my ever-buggered beauty?” Snape asked softly.

“Hermione” was the blunt statement.

Snape nodded understandingly. “Yes, Granger’s parents. It must be very hard on her.”

“You have no idea.” Harry groaned, turning into a pillow and smooshing his face deep within its feathery goodness. He relaxed a little. “She’s broken. Ron and I see it every day. She barely speaks. She doesn’t beg us to do our homework. She still does hers… sure, but when it comes to everything else in the world she just… stares. She had no idea her parents could be hurt. She didn’t care if something happened to her, but…” Harry paused and took a deep breath, then continued, “I know what it’s like to lose your parents, but I was a baby. I didn’t even know them. She knew them for years. She had memories with them. It’s different.”

Severus continued to listen silently as his lover spoke. He knew perfectly well how Granger felt. He too had been older when his parents had died. He had watched them die right before his eyes. He had watched them be murdered. Granger had it better. She didn’t need to suffer something as traumatic as that. If she was feeling bad now, imagine how she would have felt I she had witnessed something like that!

“I just want to help her,” Harry muttered, “I can’t stand to see her like this.”

“You just have to talk to her,” Severus answered, “Be there for her. It’s all you can do. You can’t change the past, unless you want to seriously fuck with the future. She’ll live, but for now, she has to grieve. Just be there for her.”

“Excepting the part about fucking with the future, you sounded a lot like Dumbledore when you said that.” Harry grinned into the pillow.

Severus scowled. “That’s Professor Dumbledore, Harry, and don’t you ever compare me to that crazy old coot.”

“Fine, fine…” Harry grumbled.

“Get going. You’ll arise suspicions if you’re down here much later. They’ll think I chopped you up into potions ingredients.”

Harry chuckled and sat up. “You’re right.” He got up and began pulling on his boxers. “And quit admiring my arse,” he said, not turning around. He heard a grumble and yelped as he felt Severus’s strong arms encircle his abdomen, pulling him into the older man’s lap. He twisted his neck and gave way to a sloppy kiss before standing up and resuming dressing.

“I can look at your arse any time I please,” Snape grunted, “I have dibbs.”

Harry laughed at this. “Don’t try to use the new slang Severus. It just sounds creepy.”

Severus’s eyes sparkled. “I suppose so. I did it for your benefit. But I do have claim over your beautiful arse. And believe me, I’ll be making that perfectly clear the next time your down here.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry replied deviously, sauntering provocatively towards his partner. Leaning down, he claimed Severus’s lips in a heated kiss. Severus ran a hand through Harry’s hair, pulling their heads closer together. Their tongues battled impressively and they began to get more excited.

Severus pulled away. “Don’t need a problem like that when you go upstairs,” he said, nodding down towards Harry’s bulging pants.

“Yeah.” Harry was flushed and breathing heavily. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good.”

With another kiss, this time chaste, Harry was out the door. Severus quietly watched him go, a soft smile gracing his lips ever so slightly.

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It was cold, dank, and frightening. A dungeon deep within the middle of emptiness. It was someplace that no sane man would go, and it was the meeting place of a few select death eaters and there snake-like master.

“Come, my spy,” Voldemort hissed into the wretched darkness. A cloaked and hooded man walked slowly over to his lord, bowing his head humbly, his face blank.

“Have you found any useful information?” Voldemort purred, placing a deceivingly tender hand on the chin of the stony-faced man.

The man shook his head. “No my lord,” he replied calmly, “I am afraid that I know nothing as of yet. No more than what I have told you.”

Voldemort’s lips twisted into a soft smile and he nodded slightly. “Yes. And we will have to take care of that soon enough. We shall test the traitor. Bring one of the Order of the Phoenix here; one that the pitiful group of Dumbledore’s will miss. I will call all of you to this. We shall see if your information is correct my dear, loyal servant. We will see if there is truly a traitor among our midst. Until then, return to Hogwarts. Watch him, and Potter.”

“Yes my lord,” the man mumbled. The other death eaters nodded in response, keeping their eyes lowered to the cold ground.

“Good. You are all dismissed.”

There were sound of muttered “Yes, my lord” or “Yes master” and the hooded figures popped with a loud crack out of sight.

Voldemort turned towards his loyal snake, grinning. **“Nagini, go to Hogwarts. I wish to know what is happening from a more consistent point of view. Go, my love.”**

Nagini hissed in understanding and slithered off out of sight.

Voldemort smiled to himself. His servants had done well. They had found very steady information. It had been of great use to him. He snickered. It would be fun to break that traitorous Severus Snape.

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**Ah, so has he discovered Severus? So it seems…..**


	6. 6

_Previously in A Potion:_

_Voldemort smiled to himself. His servants had done well. They had found very steady information. It had been of great use to him. He snickered. It would be fun to break that traitorous Severus Snape_

Chapter 6

Perhaps it was just the ominous chill in the air that morning, or maybe the harsh wind that seemed to shake the very foundation of the school, but it was most likely the fact that Remus Lupin had turned up missing that had the entire school in a state of nervous cogitation.

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table quietly, his face now as stony as Hermoine’s had been the past few days. He grimaced at the eggs in front of him and even Ron seemed to have lost his appetite; with the exception of nibbling on a piece of toast.

Hermoine sighed, the loudest sound she had uttered that morning, and Harry and Ron jumped.

“I can’t believe it,” Harry muttered, laying his fork gloomily down onto his untouched plate.

Ron turned to him and frowned. His eyes were filled with sympathy, an emotion Harry detested when directed at him, but he let it pass, keeping his mind on the situation at hand. “I just… why? First my parents, then Sirius, and now Lupin? Why does everyone who’s ever come close to being a kind of parent to me have to die?”

“He’s not dead. We don’t know that for sure,” Hermoine stated, barely above a whisper. The comment seemed sincere but strained; although that was understandable considering she had not used her voice excessively in quite a while.

The two boys turned to her, shocked, but determined not to show it in case it would cause her to go on another tangent of silence. They waited in a state of quiescence, both silently praying she spoke again.

And she did. “Harry,” she turned towards him, “Do not think like that. Lupin is strong. He can take care of himself. Voldemort just wants our attention. He won’t kill him. Then Dumbledore would go after him, and he’s petrified of Dumbledore.” She took a deep breath, seemingly exhausted by the short articulation.

Harry smiled halfheartedly. “Thank you Hermoine. You’re right. He’s terrified of Dumbledore. He won’t do anything that stupid.” But he’s a lunatic… who knows what he would do, Harry thought silently. What if Hermoine was wrong?

“Yeah mate,” Ron spoke up suddenly, “Cheer up. Dumbledore will handle it.” He lowered his voice, “And we got Snape. He’ll do something. He may be a git, but he won’t let a member of the Order die.”

“He’s not a git!” Harry burst out suddenly, causing a few heads to turn curiously their way.

Ron blinked a few times, taken aback. “W-what?” he spluttered, “Since when do you defend him? He hates you, remember?”

“He does that for his cover. He can’t go around being nice to all the students. Especially Gryffindor. He is the Slytherin Head of House.”

“Well yeah, but…”

“And he has saved our lives like five hundred times, Ron. Come on. So what if he can be a little nasty. I don’t like him for that-“

“You like him?” Ron interrupted, looking horrified.

Harry stumbled in his thoughts for a second. He turned to Hermoine, who was looking on with a mute, yet suspicious interest. Shit. He had to think fast.

“I didn’t say I like him,” he spat out desperately. He only hoped they couldn’t see how much he was sweating or the slight blush crawling up from underneath his red turtleneck. “I just said I DIDN’T like him for doing that. I never said I liked him for anything. I just said I didn’t like him. For what he did, I mean. I don’t hate him. But I don’t like him. I mean… dammit Ron! Quit reading into things so deep! All I said was he’s not that bad. Give him a little credit for risking his neck everyday!” He cut himself short, turning back to his plate and crossing his arms defensively.

Ron seemed at a loss. He turned back to his toast and gawked at it as if it were an alien from Mars, then muttered a bit of incomprehensible gibberish followed by, “Gee. Sorry Harry. I didn’t mean he was evil or anything. He’s just a bit nasty most of the time.” That was a little bit more than an understatement.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replied, “Sorry I bit out like that. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Could it possibly be because you do like him?” Hermoine inquired devilishly.

Harry grimaced. Had he missed something? Did she know something and just hadn’t told him? “No!” he answered hastily, “Merlin, quit badgering me!”

Hermoine smiled unnervingly, making Harry twitch. Even so, he couldn’t help but smile. Seeing even the slightest hint of a smile on Hermoine’s face was worth the torment the two were putting him through.

Suddenly, a deep, silky voice spoke behind them, causing all three to stiffen. “I’m deeply sorry you’re not fond of me Mr. Potter, but I’m afraid, even so, I need to speak with you immediately. I require your presence in my office.”

Ron’s face contorted uncomfortably at the surprise and gave Harry and “I’m bloody sorry, mate” look as Harry rose to leave, doing his best to look annoyed and put-down as he followed Snape out of the Great Hall.  
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The two waited until they were safely within Snape’s office before they spoke casually.

“Gee, Sev, sorry about that,” Harry said, taking a seat down in front of the man’s desk.

Severus raised a forgiving hand and replied, “You should tell them eventually, Harry. You can’t hide it from them forever.”

Harry looked away and lazily surveyed the grotesque potions on the various shelves around the room. “I know…” he muttered quietly, “I just… I’m afraid of how they’ll take it.”

“They love you Harry, and although they might be a bit shocked at first, I have no doubt they will stay by your side till the end of eternity.”

Harry smiled, his green eyes glowing. “Gods, I love you,” he replied.

Severus’s eyebrow’s raised and then relaxed. The shadows on his face seemed to lessen and he chuckled lightly. “I know,” he said, “And you know it is reciprocated, but there are more important things to discuss at that moment.” His expression returned grave, “As I’m sure you know more than well by now, Lupin has gone missing.” Harry nodded solemnly. “And I’m also sure you know why. The Dark Lord had been planning for quite a time to capture a member of the Order. It was only a matter of time, I just didn’t think he would do it this soon…” He trailed off.

Harry perked up slightly. So Severus knew a bit about it! “Did he say anything about what he would do? He won’t kill Remus will he?” His expression was pained and dire.

Severus averted his eyes.

Harry sunk back down into his chair. “I see…”

“That’s not one hundred percent set in stone,” Severus said hastily, “There is a great possibility that he could still be alive, and that’s why I’m going.”

Harry’s head shot up and Severus was slightly worried that he might have suffered whiplash. “You’re going? Where? Oh please not to Voldemort! You’ll be killed!”

“I’ve gone to many meetings with him before, and I have managed to survive. I’ve been doing it for years. There is no difference now. They have no idea I am a spy. As far as they know, I am just coming to enjoy the… er… festivities.”

Harry winced. That didn’t sound pretty. “I don’t want you to go,” he said softly, a single tear running a trail down his cheek.

He didn’t look up when he heard Severus’s chair scrape back across the stone floor, now did he move when the man was kneeling before him and cupping his face gently in his hands.

“Harry,” he whispered slowly, stroking the Gryffindor’s velvety cheeks, “I WILL come back alive. Do you hear me? I will come back to you. This time, and every other time after that; and that’s a promise.” He pulled their faces together and they kissed passionately, neither wanting to let go.

When they finally pulled apart, their faces were flushed and their breathing sloppy. Their foreheads rest lightly against each other’s and they sat that way for several minutes in a trance of tender acquiescence.

It was Severus who broke the silence.

“Harry,” he said, a little more loudly this time, “I will do everything I can to bring Lupin back, I promise.”

Harry stared deeply into Severus’s eyes for a moment before replying. “Thank you,” he said.

Severus smiled and stood. “I leave tonight,” he said, “The Dark Lord will do nothing until then.”

Harry nodded.

“Come to my chamber tonight,” Severus continued, “But now you need to go to your classes.”

“Of course,” Harry grinned, “Sometimes I almost forget you’re a professor.”

“Well I guess I’ll just have to be a little more strict,” Snape grinned evilly, “With you tonight.”

Harry laughed and pulled Severus into a soft kiss before standing to go. “We’ll discuss that later,” he purred seductively, winking at his partner.

Severus smiled as his lover left, watching as the boy cleverly maneuvered his rump in a fashion that was most delectable. He did love him. Oh, Merlin, did he love Harry Potter. He was sure that the Dark Lord did not know of his allegiance to Dumbledore, but he was not so sure of Lupin’s kismet. The werewolf’s fate was hanging by a thread, and Severus knew all too well how easily that thread could break when in the hands of Tom Riddle.

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Severus sighed, watching silently as Harry drifted peacefully off to sleep in his arms. As soon as the young wizard’s breathing had evened out and his eyelashes fluttered with content dormancy, Severus pried himself softly from the boy’s grasp and got dressed quietly, leaving in a flurry of swishing robes as he rounded the corner out of sight, headed towards the anti-apparation point of Hogwarts.

With one last look at the majestic castle, he disappeared with a loud crack.

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It was dark, cold, and gloomy; the usual setting for such an occasion; with the occasion being a torture session.

It was frequent that they held such gatherings, but the main target was usually a muggle or a low-class witch or wizard, never a wizard of this magnitude; one of Albus Dumbledore’s precious pets. The man was huddled in a ball on the ground, but not cowering by any means. Although bowed down to the dirt, he was bowing to no one, and between shuddering convulsions and gasps of spluttering blood, he grit his teeth defiantly and did not utter a sound through his torment.

Some of the Death Eaters chuckled at his obstinance, casually throwing curses and hexes his way.

Tom Riddle stood nearby, watching the scene with half-amused interest; but his mind was not fully on the scene before him. This was not what he wanted. This occasion had a purpose: to expose a traitor. Yet this traitor was not among the cackling Death Eaters as the caused the werewolf on the ground to writhe in pain. He was not here, and that made Lord Voldemort quite displeased. His mouth turned slowly into a seemingly painful grimace, intended as a smile, as a reverberating crack sounded nearby. The Death Eaters stopped at their game to look upon the intruder, smiles twisting onto their faces as they recognized him.

“Well, well,” Voldemort hissed coolly, “Hello, my dear Severus.”

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**OMFG. Cliffhanger!!!! XD**


	7. 7

_Previously in ‘A Potion’:_

_This occasion had a purpose: to expose a traitor. Yet this traitor was not among the cackling Death Eaters as the caused the werewolf on the ground to writhe in pain. He was not here, and that made Lord Voldemort quite displeased. His mouth turned slowly into a seemingly painful grimace, intended as a smile, as a reverberating crack sounded nearby. The Death Eaters stopped at their game to look upon the intruder, smiles twisting onto their faces as they recognized him._

_“Well, well,” Voldemort hissed coolly, “Hello, my dear Severus.”_

Chapter 7

_The air was rank with pained cries and blood. Remus Lupin lay shivering on the ground, surrounded by a mass of hooting and hollering Death Eaters._

_“Silence,” Lord Voldemort whispered, waving his hand before him with a commanding grace. They were quiet at once, anxious to see the werewolf’s fate._

_“This,” Voldemort hissed, titling up Remus’s head with the toe of his boot, “Is one of Dumbledore’s dearly beloved. Tonight, I’m pleased to say, will be this wretched mutt’s end.” His face twisted into a soft, demented grin. “Although I doubt many would miss such a disgusting creature.” He kicked Remus away, sneering as the man spluttered and fell gracelessly to the dirt._

_“Who would like to do the honors?” Voldemort said quietly, turning in a circle to face all of his followers. “Severus?” He stopped before the dark haired man, and, gesturing towards Remus’s crumpled form, he spoke, “Will you? I’m sure he has given you much trouble in your years watching over Dumbledore for me as my ever-faithful servant. Do you not wish to kill him?”_

_Severus stepped forward and bowed deeply. “I would love to do so, My Lord,” he replied, “But do you not think that my wand will be checked? Dumbledore may have a fool’s faith in me, but the Ministry is a different story. They’ll check me as soon as they receive word of his death.”_

_Voldemort paused. A tense nervousness filled the air thickly as he contemplated. Then, he nodded curtly. “Indeed, my dear Severus,” he said, “That is true. Then… perhaps we should not kill him? Do you think this is necessary?”_

_Severus answered without hesitation. “No, My Lord. We should do what you think best. He is truly one of Dumbledore’s finest, and it would be a harsh blow to the old coot. Yet, such a harsh blow is bound to make him rise. It may not be safe for us if Dumbledore were to be angered to such an extent.”_

_“Yes, Severus,” Voldemort answered gently, “But this is war, is it not? We must show that old man that we mean business!” He raised his hands as he spoke. “We must show him that we will not stand by as he gathers more forces and trains Potter to defeat me. This will also be a blow to the boy, as I have learned from reliable sources that these two are rather close. I understand your worry Severus, but it is unnecessary. Now,” he turned to Severus once more, a dark glint in his beady eyes. “Do you still not think that this man must die?”_

_Silence. It was a short silence, but it was a noticeable hesitation to the Dark Lord; and it was all the proof he needed. As he lifted his wand, not waiting for an answer. He muttered the cursed words without hesitation. The green light flashed and all was silenced as if suspended in time and space for eternity. And a lifeless body slumped to the ground._

Harry woke up with a cry as his vision ended.

“Mate!” Ron shook him roughly. “Harry are you ok? You’ve been hollering for fifteen minutes!”

Harry began to shake as a cold sweat covered him.

“Out of my way!” a scratchy voice echoed through the boys’ dorm as McGonnagal stormed her way inside. “Potter! Potter! What in the blazes has happened? Potter?” She took Harry by the shoulders and put a hand to his forehead. “Gracious, you’re burning up! I must get you to Poppy right away. Mister Weasley, help me. The rest of you, move out of my way.”

Harry’s head spun as McGonnagal and Ron drug him slowly down the corridors, Hermoine’s worried voice following closely behind. Slowly, his vision darkened and his breathing grew ragged.

“Remus…” he whispered.

Then everything went black.

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Once more, Harry’s vision cleared into the sterile, empty environment of the hospital wing as he slowly woke. Ron and Hermoine sat by his bed and were watching as Dumbledore and McGonnagal exchanged worried whispers a short ways away.

“I don’t know Albus,” McGonnagal was muttering quietly, he eyes darting nervously about, “I heard this all the way in my chambers. The boy’s visions are getting too strong. This could be severely dangerous to his health!”

Dumbledore nodded serenely as she spoke, patiently waiting for his time to speak. “Yes, I agree with you Minerva,” he replied softly, his face looking ashen and his twinkle dimmed, “But there is, no matter how much I wish to change the fact, nothing I can do at this time. I do not wish this pain upon the boy, but he is strong. I believe he can handle it.”

“Yes, but the things he says while he’s having these dreams,” McGonnagal persisted, “Sometimes he speaks as if he were… the monster himself.”

“Minerva, I think by now, you can refer to him by his name,” Dumbledore said gently.

Grudgingly, McGonnagal obeyed. “Yes well, Voldemort seems to be taking over Harry like some kind of puppet.”

“I will not let that happen,” Dumbledore said firmly, “And Tom will not do something so stupid. He knows if he gets too close to Harry that he will be burned as well. He has no intention of doing so at this time. But on to more important matters at the moment, we must find out what Harry saw in his vision.” Dumbledore turned towards Harry suddenly, the twinkle in his eyes somewhat replenished when he saw that Harry was awake. “Hello, my boy,” he said, moving to stand beside him. “Please, tell me what you saw. What happened Harry?”

Harry felt his eyes betray him as tears began to burn at their corners and trail slowly down his face. His chin shook and he struggled with his breathing as he averted his gaze from the Headmaster’s. He couldn’t say it. No. He didn’t want to believe it. If he said it, it would make it all true.

“Please, Harry,” Dumbledore pressed, “I must know what you saw.”

“Re….” Harry couldn’t finish his sentence as his lip began to tremble. He bit his lip to steady it and shut his eyes tightly. Dumbledore remained silent, waiting for Harry to continue.

“Remus…” Harry managed to choke out. “Remus is dead.”

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Harry, having gone through enough trauma for one day, was allowed freedom from his classes for the day. He spent most of his time in the Gryffindor common room or wandering the grounds by the lake. Severus had come back later that morning and had remained hidden in his chambers with Potions class cancelled.

Harry wanted desperately to visit him. He tried numerous times to do so. He had even made it to the bottom of the dungeon steps before turning tail and running away.

Last nights event’s flooded his vision, tearing at his thoughts and conscience. Remus, the only piece of his parents he had left, his only family left… was gone. Just like Sirius. Just like his parents. They were all dead.

What hurt even more is that Severus could have stopped it. Couldn’t he have? Voldemort had given him the option, hadn’t he?

Harry clenched his fists tightly and ground his teeth tightly together. Opening his eyes, he was shocked to realize that his wanderings led him once more to the dungeons. He sighed, deciding that it was time to face Severus. It would come eventually.

He walked down the hall slowly, pondering what he would say to the man, but honestly having no idea what he even wanted to talk about. Upon arriving at the door, he braced himself and knocked three times, paused, and then knocked a fourth. It was a special knock designed for him, and, as expected, the door swung open and he walked hesitantly inside.

Severus was not in his office. Harry had expected as much. Venturing further into the flickering torchlight, he opened the door to the personal chambers to find Severus sitting slumped in an armchair. He looked worn and weary, and his head creaked slowly upwards at Harry’s entrance, as if his reflexes had been numbed.

They exchanged no words, but merely stood and stared for a long continuation of moments. The fire crackled unknowingly in the fireplace, spewing glowing sparks from the embers and warming the room that suddenly felt so very cold and uncomfortable.

Finally, Severus spoke. “Harry…”  
”I don’t want to hear it!” Harry spat suddenly, his anger quickly overpowering him. “You could have stopped it! He gave you a choice!”

Severus stood. “No, there was no real choice, Harry. He would have found me out to be a traitor if I had disagreed with him. I would have died as well as Lupin.”

“Well better him than you right?” cried Harry, tears spilling out from his eyes.

Severus flinched at this. For the first time in his life, Harry saw true pain in the Professor’s eyes. But as it so easily can, wrath blinded him.

“You… you had a choice!” Harry choked, “You let him die. He was all I had left!”

“I didn’t have a choice!’ Severus pleaded. “You don’t understa-“

“Don’t understand?” Harry growled, “I saw the whole fucking thing! I watched him ask you, and you hesitated. You hesitated and now Remus is dead because of you!”  
”I did everything I could!” Severs bellowed, standing more firmly to the ground and shaking with torn emotions. He tried desperately to shield his face and keep the passive visage he had worked so hard for, but as Harry screamed at him and blamed him for the death of a love one, he crumbled forward and fought back. “I swear, Harry, if I could have I would have saved him!”

“Liar!” Harry hissed, sounding disturbingly like his enemy, “You never like him. The Marauders may have been cruel to you back in your school days, but that doesn’t mean you let them die!”

“That had nothing to do with it!”

“You’ve let your grudges consume you,” Harry continued venomously as if Severus had not even spoken, “You’ve always hated them. I bet you loved seeing them die! All of them!”  
”Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” Harry laughed bitterly. “Yeah I’m just so ridiculous to you, huh? Just the spoiled, golden, famous Boy Who Lived. Is that right?”

“No!”

Harry opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it shut with a crack and glared in agony at Severus. “I just….” he choked on his words and sobbed softly, “I…. Don’t come near me!” He yelped as Severus made a move to comfort him. “Stay away from me! I don’t want to…. Do this anymore. You and me. I can’t do it.”

“Harry…” Severus reached a hand out to his lover, his heart wrenching at the words he was forced to hear.

“NO!” Harry cried once again, taking another step backwards. “I can’t forgive you for that. For not trying… I… I just can’t!” He fisted his hands in his hair as if to yank it all out, and without another thought or word, he turned and fled, slamming the doors behind him.

Severus stood rooted to the spot, staring at the spot where Harry had stood only moments before. His heart had been twisted from his chest. He felt like falling to the floor.

Suddenly, he let out an angry snarl and swiped at a nearby lamp, knocking it with a crash of the table to shatter onto the floor.

He should have never gotten involved with someone so young. He was the fool. He had fallen in love with the idea of love. Was it really just infatuation? He collapsed into his armchair and buried his head in his hands. He shook softly as silent sobs wracked his body and a few lone tears found their way down his cheeks.

He loved that brat more than life itself.

And now he had left him.

He, Severus; the cold, hard, powerful ex-Death Eater was broken. He was broken by a mere boy. He was broken by someone who should have never even got close to him, but in the end got closer than anyone ever had. Harry was under his skin and in his soul, and no matter how desperately Severus wanted to tear him away and break that bond, he knew it was impossible.

He had gone in far too deep. He would never find his way out of this mess.

Severus sat there for hours. He was there as the fire continued to crackle into the darkness. He was there as supper in the great hall came and went. He was there as the moon rose fully into the sky. He was even there as his dark mark began to burn as a calling and he knew that he must leave. And as Harry lay awake in his dorm that night, silencing charms conjured around him as he cried himself to sleep, Severus was there on the grounds, looking up at the Gryffindor tower as he apparated away.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

***sobs uncontrollably* Don’t you all hate me? Well sorry for the short chapter, but there will be plenty more soon, so no worries. Man, this chapter was angst x 5000!**

**Sorry for that. But it won’t be lifting up to happy land any time soon, so prepare yourselves for more angst and/or drama. ;)**


	8. 8

_Previously in A Potion:_

_Severus sat there for hours. He was there as the fire continued to crackle into the darkness. He was there as supper in the great hall came and went. He was there as the moon rose fully into the sky. He was even there as his dark mark began to burn as a calling and he knew that he must leave. And as Harry lay awake in his dorm that night, silencing charms conjured around him as he cried himself to sleep, Severus was there on the grounds, looking up at the Gryffindor tower as he apparated away._

Chapter 8

Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She shook her head as Ron did the same and they sat down at the table in the great hall for breakfast.

Harry was running on autopilot. He had refused to tell them why his voice was hoarse or explain the dark, purple circles under his eyes, and merely sat, staring into space much like Hermione had done the days after she had learned of her parents’ death. He ate quietly, trying not to grimace as he felt the dry toast catch in his throat, and forced a swallow of pumpkin juice between his parched lips. His eyes stung as if salt water had been thrown in his face and he struggled to keep them open. He knew he looked terrible, but he didn’t care. The others could ask all they wanted, but what was the point of telling them anything? It wouldn’t help.

He had lost all of his family now, broken up painfully with his lover, and lost all confidence in himself. He was devastated and angry. Harry felt his lower lip quiver as more tears threatened to fall from his already drained eyes, but his face only flushed as he dug deeper into his meal in order for his friends not to notice.

He wanted to look. Could he? Could he turn his head those three inches and glance up at the staff table? It was so much more difficult than it sounded. Severus could be looking at him, and he wouldn’t be able to handle eye contact at this point. Harry was grateful he didn’t have Potions today. It was the weekend, a well-deserved break for the students as they struggled through exams. He wouldn’t have gone to the class even if he did have it, most likely. Even so, he had to look. Just one look…

Harry turned his head slowly. Maybe Severus wouldn’t notice him looking. Maybe the greasy bastard wouldn’t even care. He was probably eating his breakfast without a care in the world, thinking Harry was at fault and that he didn’t do anything wrong. Harry’s heart pounded with venom. It was his fault! He could have at least tr-

He wasn’t there.

Harry’s thoughts stopped, confused. Where was he? His eyes scanned the staff table in search of the Potions Master only to find nothing. His seat was empty and untouched. Had he already been here? Had he not come yet? No, he was always on time for every meal. Every teacher was.

Then where?

Harry’s chest tightened as he turned back to his food. Maybe he was in his rooms, too ashamed to come out and face Harry after last night. Harry frowned. ‘Serves him right,’ he thought vehemently, ‘He should feel guilty.’

Even though this thought seemed logical for a moment, the idea was quashed as soon as Harry thought more clearly. Severus never hid. It wasn’t who he was. No matter how humiliated or terrible or guilty he felt, he wouldn’t hide.

Which lead him to another conclusion:

Voldemort.

What if Severus had been summoned?

What if…. he had been found out?

Harry felt the uneasy feeling of guilt creep into his gut. He quickly pushed it away as he closed his eyes and mentally shook off the idea.

No. Severus was a perfect spy. He wouldn’t have been found out.

Gradually, Harry came to realize Hermione had been prodding him anxiously.

“Eh, what, Hermione?” Harry muttered, rubbing the now sore spot on his arm.

“It’s a beautiful day,” the young witch mentioned, gesturing to the windows lining the hall. “Let’s go take a walk. It might make you feel better.”

“I told you I’m fine,” Harry grumbled, standing up as the other two did the same. “I’m just tired.”

“I know...” Hermione seemed lost.

“Going outside will wake you up, mate,” Ron intervened, seeing Hermione’s pause. “I’m a bit groggy myself. Maybe we could play some Quidditch while we’re out. There’s no practice today so the pitch’ll be free!”

“Mm.” Harry grunted his reply. He didn’t really care. He was so emotionally worn that it seemed all he had left was apathy.

“Well let’s go then,” Hermione said, suddenly very happy, a forced grin plastered on her pink cheeks. She laced her arm through Harry’s and led him out of the hall, Ron not too far behind.

They walked out onto the steps of the castle, relishing the feel of the warm breeze as it cascaded over the grounds, rippling the surface of the lake not far away.

Harry frowned, his gut sinking once more as he thought of Severus. Had he left? Had Harry upset him that much? Maybe he did feel terrible, but Harry couldn’t believe that. ‘He didn’t think he did anything wrong,’ Harry repeated in his head, ‘How can he possibly be sorry?’

They took the few steps down to level ground and began to walk. Ron wasn’t listening to Hermione as she stressed about the Transfiguration test the upcoming Monday. Hermione wasn’t listening to Ron as he rambled on about the Chudley Cannons and their new team member. And neither of them were listening to Harry as he mumbled in acknowledgement as his friends spoke on. However, they all listened when a screech such as they had never heard cut through the blue sky of the afternoon, causing them to spin around in shock to the large doors at the entrance of Hogwarts.

Harry felt new rush of confusion spin through his mind and then a terrible, mind-numbing ache and agony that he had never experienced before as he heard the terrified voice of Sibyl Trelawney wail out from behind the doors of the school, screaming a name that chilled Harry’s heart to ice and shattered it within an instant.

“SEVERUS!”

The trio raced through the doors of the entrance, Harry far ahead, to find a sobbing Trelawney huddled next to the wall, her hands up to her face in a gesture of horror as she looked upon the twitching mass on the floor.

A group of students began to gather and a few screams and gasps pierced through the crowd. Harry could only stare aghast as he felt his arms go limp and his stomach wrench so painfully that he thought he’d vomit all over the shining marble tiles.

Severus lay bleeding and gasping on the floor. His eyes were wide and unseeing as he stared straight up at the ceiling, clutching his shredded robes to his convulsing body. His face was caked in blood and it stilled pored out of his mouth in what seemed to Harry like endless rivers of crimson liquid. His leg was bent at an odd angle and his knee protruded backwards, as if it had wanted to turn around but the rest of his body had not complied. He spluttered and a spray of blood flecked the dark floors, provoking another cry from the students huddled around his wretching figure.

Suddenly, a clear and crystalline voice rang out over the hall, parting the crowd as if Moses were behind them.

Dumbledore strode in with long, hasty steps. The sparkle in his eyes was replaced with concern and desperation. Minerva McGonnagal was not long behind, clutching her robes to herself as if they would fall from her. She gasped; a familiar sound in the now quite room; save for Severus’s coughs and wheezes.

“Albus,” McGonnagal whispered with severity, “We must get him to the infirmary at once!”

“Of course, Minerva,” Dumbledore replied firmly, saying to her that he was well aware of that fact. She frowned and took a step back.

With a wave of his hand, the Headmaster had Severus floating through the air after him, drops of blood trailing the hall as they swept away.

“He was discovered,” Hermione said quietly, her voice barely audible and raspy as if she had been screaming for a long time.

Ron swallowed, unable to speak. “He… he looks bad,” he managed to choke out, still shocked from the sight of the mauled teacher only moments ago.

Harry did not speak. Instead, he ran. He ran as fast as he could, his face blank and his eyes hard.

“Harry!”

Ron and Hermione called after him but he ignored them, rushing up the stairs to the common room. He dashed into the dormitory and grabbed his invisibility cloak, flying back down the stairs with it in hand to come face to face with two very red-faced companions.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ron asked, thoroughly frazzled from the chase.

Hermione’s brows furrowed as she saw the cloak in Harry’s hands.

“I’m going to find out what’s going on,” Harry replied simply, his breath shaky from adrenaline. “If he was discovered, this could be very bad for us.”

He moved past them to the portrait hole, waiting for it to swing open.

“Harry…” Hermione said softly.

He turned around to see her looking at him calmly, an expression of realization making its way over her strong features. Her eyes watered and she smiled haphazardly. “It’s him isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and as Harry stuck one leg out of the portrait hole and into the hall, he looked her dead in the eyes and threw the cloak over his shoulders.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“What are we going to do, Albus?”

Harry could hear McGonagall’s voice, shaky and nervous, on the other side of the infirmary curtains. He pulled the invisibility cloak closer around himself, hoping perhaps that it would save him somehow; save Severus somehow…

“Wait for Poppy to finish Minerva,” Dumbledore spoke, his clear voice trying sedately to quell her, “Only then will we know what can be done for Severus.”

“But Albus!” McGonnagal exclaimed, a tone of desperation squeezing out from her involuntarily. “The state of him… after he’d been called by him…”

“Your assumptions are correct, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore interjected somberly, “Severus has indeed been discovered as a spy. I am sad that he had to be put in such danger.”

‘So he was discovered then,’ Harry thought despondently, ‘He was summoned. That’s why he was gone… Last night he was discovered…’ He frowned, his expression morose and lugubrious as he inched his way around the curtain so as not to make a sound. He snuck slowly behind the two Professors who silently regarded Severus’s now unmoving figure upon the hospital bed.

“Well,” Madam Pomphrey said suddenly, “That’s about all I can do for him right now, Albus.”

“What exactly is his condition, Poppy?” Dumbledore inquired, serenely looking over the resting Potions Master.

The mediwitch sighed, clasping her hands together nervously. “He was attacked with numerous spells and physical blows. I can heal the non magical wounds easily, but it seems they did not want him to die. They wanted him to suffer. It’s dreadful…”

“What do you mean?” the Headmaster pressed, furrowing a worried brow as Harry did the same under his cloak.

“I cannot identify what he was attacked with,” Madam Pomphrey said slowly; carefully, “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before… in all my years…”

“Poppy!” Dumbledore urged, his tone firm and precise.

She frowned and looked over at Severus for a moment. “He won’t be able to use his muscles correctly for quite a while. He’ll be too weak to hold a spoon for weeks, months, maybe more. I have a potion that can rehabilitate him, but it will still take a long time.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“Albus…” McGonnagal spoke into the silence, “If… if he couldn’t use his muscles… then how did he get into the castle?”

A horrifying look of realization swept over Dumbledore’s face as he looked at the Deputy Headmistress. “No one reported having seen him on the grounds. That being the case, the only mode of transportation is…”

“Apparation,” Madam Pomphrey finished quietly. “Headmaster-“

“We must alert the staff at once,” Dumbledore interrupted, regaining his composure and taking on his role as the leader. “Voldemort has finally figured out how to get past our wards. If our wards are down, then the students are in grave danger. Minerva, call all the staff together and wait for me in my office.”

“Of course,” the professor nodded brusquely and left the wing with a vengeance.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore continued, turning to the unsettled witch, “Please retrieve the potion for Severus. However,” He raised a hand as she turned to go. “I want you to triple its potency.”

“But, Headmaster, that could be lethal! It’s never been tested before!” Madam Pomphrey cried, her face aghast.

“I have faith,” Dumbledore stated simply.

She faltered for a moment before running hastily off to her stores.

“Harry, my boy.” Dumbledore spoke once more.

Harry jumped. He had been so caught up in the events that he had forgotten once more that the Professor could see him. Sighing in defeat, he slipped the cloak off his shoulders and looked, ashamed, up at the Headmaster.

“You must go pack your things,” the old man said, his face wrinkled in thought.

“Bu-but why!” Harry exclaimed. “I can’t leave! My friends are here!”

“Harry, if Voldemort has indeed found a way to get past our barriers, then Hogwarts is no longer safe, especially for you.” He raised a quieting hand when Harry moved to speak, causing the young wizard to snap his mouth shut hesitantly. “All he wants is you, and at this point, Severus as well. He only allowed him to live so that we would know he has access to the castle. However, if Voldemort is not sure that you reside inside Hogwarts, then he will not attack until he has full confidence. If you stay here, I have a feeling he will attack within the week. We must get you to a safe place at once.”

Harry’s heart raced. “But for how long!” he asked.

“As long as it takes to ensure that Hogwarts is safe once more,” Dumbledore answered, looking around the room forlornly. “I do not know how long, but it should not be more than two weeks.”

“Where will I go?” Harry cried, furious that he would not be able to stay.

“I cannot tell you that, Harry. For now, not knowing is far safer.” The man tugged at his beard for a moment, a surprisingly anxious gesture. “You are to take Severus with you. He is in no condition to defend himself at this time.”  
”What?” Harry’s eyes grew wide. “I wouldn’t be able to help him!”

“You must only make sure he gets his potion. If it works, he should be fine within a few days.”

“But Madam Pomphrey said-“

“Do not let that worry you, my boy,” Dumbledore cut Harry off. “Severus is far stronger than you know.”

Harry looked away. He jumped when he felt a comforting hand rest itself on his shoulder.

“Please, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly, “Trust me.”

Harry suddenly felt very guilty. He shouldn’t have doubted Dumbledore’s logic, even for a moment. “Yes, sir. But…” Harry glanced at Severus. “Can I at least tell Ron and Hermione that I’m leaving and why?”

“Yes, of course, but come back quickly. I will be here.” Dumbledore turned to leave, reaching the doors in a few quick strides and opening them with a natural flourish. As the Headmaster turned to him, Harry saw that the twinkle in his eyes had come back once more. “Don’t be afraid Harry.”

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Ron yelped, jumping up from in front of the fire. “Dumbledore can’t just kick you out like that. You have a right to stay here.”

“It’s for our own safety, Ron,” Harry replied as Hermione and the fuming redhead followed him up to the dorms. “If I’m here, Voldemort will definitely attack.”

“I don’t bloody care!” Ron pouted.

The three entered the room to find Seamus in the middle of changing. He promptly clasped his hands over his bare chest in some kind of shield as he turned pure crimson. “Bloody hell, guys! Warn me before you bring a girl on in here!”

Hermione couldn’t restrain a giggle as the ruffled Gryffindor dove behind the hanging sheets of his four-poster bed, grumbling about the fact that he couldn’t go into the girls’ dorms. Ron frowned and plopped himself on Harry’s trunk, only to be shoved off of it moments later as Harry grabbed a few clothes from its depths.

“I don’t see why you’re agreeing to go hide,” Ron muttered grumpily, finding Harry’s bed to be a much more suitable seat that the trunk.

“Because I trust Dumbledore,” Harry replied severely, eyeing Ron. “Don’t you?”

“Uwah! Yeah, yeah! Of course I do!” Ron stuttered, taking on Seamus’s previous crimson blush. “I didn’t mean that! I’m just saying that I don’t think it’s smart to send you off somewhere alone. Doesn’t that just make you more of an open target?”

“I’m not going alone…” Harry said softly, shoving a pair of trousers into his bag.

“Huh? Who’s going with you then?” Ron inquired curiously, leaning over the edge of the bed to peer at his friend. His eyes lit up for a moment. “Can we come?”

“No, you can’t come, Ron.” Harry zipped the bag closed and slung it over his shoulder.

“Who then?” Ron quirked his eyebrow in annoyance. “Spit it out already mate!”

“Snape” came the blunt reply.

“Snape!” Ron gaped. “But he was just torn to shreds an hours ago! How can he protect you?”

“I don’t need protection Ron,” Harry replied, his voice hard. He softened suddenly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you know it. Just… be safe while I’m gone, ok? Both of you.” He looked over at Hermione and gave her a hug. She looked at him sadly and it appeared as though she wanted to say something, but her lips remained unmoving.

“Come back, Harry,” Ron mumbled, patting his friend on the shoulder. Harry smiled and nodded.

They walked down the stairs and into the common room in silence, exchanging worried glances as the portrait hole swung open.

Harry took one last glance at his companions. ‘I love you guys,’ He thought, and stepped for the second time that day out of the room.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“Are you ready, Harry?”

“As much as I can be.”

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“Two doses of the potion a day. One at night, one in the morning.”

“And the other?”

“Don’t leave no matter what. Stay there until you come get me.”

“Very good. You will be fine.” Dumbledore smiled sadly and placed his palms on either side of Harry’s shoulders, holding him in place. “This will work out, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to reply. His throat felt dry and his hands cold. He wrung them together in an attempt to warm them. “This had to happen eventually, didn’t it?”

Dumbledore frowned. “Yes. Yes it did.”

“Well better sooner than later,” Harry sighed. “I think when I come back, I’ll be ready to face him.”

“The whole point of this is so that you don’t have to face him yet, Harry. Don’t wish for danger.”

“Danger wishes for me,” Harry replied, grimacing as if he had tasted something bitter.

“Do not be so jaded, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “Your life is a lucky one.”

Once again, Harry didn’t reply.

They stood in silence for a moment, letting the implication of the situation fully sink in.

Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Oh, how he hated traveling by portkey. He looked over at the empty potion vial that would be his transporter. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to go to some unknown place and wait, not knowing what was happening to his friends and his home. He wasn’t ready to admit that Voldemort was so close; that times were so dark and dangerous. Harry wasn’t ready. He wasn’t nearly ready. And Severus. He would have to face Severus when he woke up.

Harry wasn’t ready for that either.

Harry swallowed and looked up into the ever-glowing eyes of the Headmaster.

“I’m ready,” he said.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**Voom biddy boom boom.**

**Don’t ask. I just felt like saying that.**

**So a big atmospheric change and Sev is hurt! OH NOES!**

**What to do…. What to do………….**


	9. IMPORTANT Announcement

Ok, guys. This is for all of you who are reading and awaiting the next chapter (9) of A Potion.

I’ve been getting a lot of questions and there are also some things that I feel should be addressed about the story so the plot can be clarified.

If any questions you have aren’t answered here, feel free to submit a review to this and ask it. I will add you question to my forum (which can be found on my fanfiction.net account) and I will answer it there.

So:

**Harry and Snape get together too quickly in this story! It’s unrealistic and I don’t like it.**

I know they get together quickly. I am aware of the fact. I wasn’t just being impatient or inexperienced in slash, though. There is a reason they got together so quickly. Severus explained a bit of why he did what he did in chapter 5, and Harry will really start contemplating it soon.

There is a reason. It will be explained. That’s really all I can say.

**Is this going to be mpreg (male pregnancy)?**

My God, NO. What everyone else writes is good and fine, but the day I write mpreg will be the day I quit writing fanfics. Unless it’s a joke, I’ll never write that.

**Where’s Voldemort and the war? The outside world has barely been mentioned!**

Really? Well yes, to some extent that’s right, but with the last chapter or so I think I’m starting to put that stuff in there. Chapter 9 will have hardly any Harry and Sev in it actually. (I hope I didn’t spoil anything XD). The war and Voldemort will be knocking down the door of this fic VERY soon.

(!)And just as a hint, re-read chapter 1. Especially the Quidditch accident. (hinthint nudgenudge) Everything that happens in this fic will be explained and has a deeper meaning than you think. Things aren’t what they seem. Remember that.

**What’s going to happen in the end? This isn’t character death is it?**

Not telling. Though I’ll strongly hint at the fact that though tragic events happen in this story, the end is not wholly tragic. My tragedy is The Fallen. Read that one if you want to cry. ;) (pretend I didn’t say that)

**What’s the deal with the Redolence potion (chapter 1)? Why did it represent lust and love (chapter 5)?**

Harry’s redolence potion only turned redish pinkish when Snape came over. Severus noticed this, therefore, his suspicions began to arise of Harry’s feelings towards him. That’s when he started considering Harry in a way not deemed… appropriate, in some ways. It was that color because of Severus and Harry’s nervousness and confusing newfound emotion towards the man after “Lavender’s potion”. Why the quotation marks, you ask? Not telling. Lol

**What’s the deal with Malfoy (Draco)? He appeared for a bit in chapter 1, but now he’s gone! Wtf?! Was the quidditch thing just filler?**

There is no filler in this fic. (officially big hint)

As for Draco, wait for chapter 9. Draco fans will love it. It starts explaining the quidditch incident and something important happens at the end. You want the war people? You want Voldytart?

Wait for 9. 

**Have Harry and Severus had shmexy sex?**

Merlin, yes. This fic just wasn’t meant for smut. Sorry, but it’s more of a romance, drama, plotline sort of thing. I know I could have added some steamy stuff in it, but it didn’t come out that way. I apologize beforehand that there will be no lovely slashy smut smex in this fic.

But yes, they have “done it”. :P

**Snape is out of character! You’re making him look like a wuss!**

Am I? Yeah, so snarky Snape doesn’t make much of an appearance, but are you telling me he doesn’t have a heart? Putting the Snape/Lily shippers to the side, this is the first time he has really loved someone. Yes, he loves Harry. He doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s overwhelming. Even for him.

You’ll see him revert to snarky for a bit, but after all he’s been through with Harry, he can’t really ever be nasty to him again, even if they did “break up”. Severus is strong, cold, resilient, but one of the biggest points of this fic is that somehow, sometime, somewhere when not even we realized it, Harry broke through that. Harry is the only one who has forced Severus to feel in a long time.

Harry changed him. Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse, but he DID change him

You’ll find more out about this later, their relationship, I mean, but that’s the point I’m trying to make right now.

**Harry’s being an ass. He’s immature, hotheaded, and is treating Severus like shit! He’s being ridiculous!**

Typical Gryffindor, if you want to customary response. Lol

But jokes aside, I know. That’s a huge point in the story too, which lasts till the very end, in essence.

Harry is being cold to Severus, cruelly so, I know that full well. I did it on purpose, guys. Plus, Harry’s just a teenager. He’s right on the edge of adulthood. He’s confused. He just lost his last connection to his parents. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders. That’s gotta be pretty stressful, doesn’t it?

Harry took it out on Sev because, in a sense, he’s who Harry feels is supposed to protect him now. He felt like Sev didn’t care enough and he felt vulnerable. He was confused because he wanted Severus to comfort him, but he associated him with Remus’s death. HE knows full well Sev had to be careful, but due to his hotheadedness and such, he doesn’t see that part of it. Remus is dead. Hermione’s parents are dead. That’s all he knows. He sees Voldemort coming. He’s petrified that all his friends will die, especially Severus, and he doesn’t want to be the cause of Severus’s death.

Almost unconsciously, he was pushing Severus away just because he realized the man wasn’t immortal or immune, just as he thought Remus would always be there, and he was afraid.

This will be explained later too, but not this specifically.

**Where did Harry’s anger go after Hermione’s parents died? He was going to “destroy” Voldemort, remember? Why did he agree to go into hiding?**

Heat of the moment, guys. When he finally confronts the beast, he will remember that venom and anger, but even he’s not dumb enough to go face the wizard randomly and alone. He’s been there, done that.

Yes, you guys, there will be a final confrontation between Harry and Voldemort. Final? What kind of “final”? You’ll see. (evil grin)

Harry went to that hiding place with Severus instead of staying behind because:

Dumbledore asked/told him to

He was scared, even though he is the Boy Who Lived, he was scared

He was worried about Severus

He was confused and still in a bit of shock. After all, he left only an hour or two after Severus appeared in the entrance hall

He didn’t want his friends to get hurt. The logic that Voldemort would come if he knew Harry was in the school was understandable. He didn’t want to endanger those around him.

Among other things. That’s all I’ll say for now.

**Will Ron ever figure out what’s going on? Will you include him at all? He’s barely there! And what about Hermione? How did she figure it out?**

Ron….. XD Gods, he’ll have importance. He does something really big, actually, but not till much later…. Sorry. Ron has his day, just not now. And yeah, eventually he’ll know about Harry and Severus.

Hermione, now she’s a card. How couldn’t she have figured out about Harry and Snape’s relationship? She’s bright, perceptive, and logical. She saw the signs and figured it out on her own. Harry acting so strange and desperate in seeing Severus’s mangled body took the cake for her. She knows, and she and Ron, will both support Harry in whatever he does. They love him. They want him to be happy, so those of you waiting for “You’re disgusting Harry!” from Ron or “That’s really wrong!” from Hermione, sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not going to happen.

**Who’s the spy who ratted out Severus?! That bastard!**

Silly question. You really think I’ll tell you? You will see their face in chapter 10.

**Wasn’t Nagini supposed to go spy on Severus and them? Where is she?**

You’ll see. Nyehhehehehhehehe….

**How did they catch Remus? He wouldn’t go so easily.**

Who says he went easily? We don’t delve into that story, but I can guarantee you he was more than outnumbered. He put up a fight, Remus-lovers. Don’t worry.

**What exactly happened to Severus? Why did Voldemort let him live?**

Severus was discovered, tortured, and released. Voldyfart let him go because he wanted to send a clear message to Dumbledore and Harry. He was letting them kow he knew and that he would be coming soon. He will want to kill Severus the next time he sees him, for he has served his purpose (to Voldemort) now.

As for how they tortured him, use you imagination. I can say that the major part of his injuries was magical. The more normal physical wounds will heal quickly, but the other stuff will need to be healed with potion.

Remember that Dumbledore had Pomphrey almost triple the dosage of Severus’s healing potion. That could be deadly, but it has never been tested, so his healing rate might just increase drastically. Who knows. Well, I do, but I’m not telling. Mwa ha ha…..ha.

Anyways, the effects are muscle failure, stamina and consciousness loss, vision impairment, joint inflexibility, and pain. That’s for the technical readers.

Otherwise, you’ll just have to see what happens to Sev.

Don’t expect really in depth crap on his recovery though. It causes and triggers a lot of plot points, but it itself isn’t too huge of a deal. I kinda just gave it away there didn’t I? Oh well.

**Gfwksrjbqfuibjlstiugkaelirkeabjgsbretilbuk!!!!!**

I know. I totally agree. (nods)

**Is it all already written?**

Nope. I put up new chapters as soon as I write them. I do, however, have a plan for it all. It gets more and more intricate every time I think about it. The ending and events are set.

I love hearing suggestions or idea, but I will most likely not use them unless I already have that idea or it is something small.

**When can I find info on your fics, you, and forums regarding the Harry/Snape paring?**

My forums, found at the top of my profile on fanfiction.net. I also say when I’m going to update there and all the FAQ should be up there too.

Feel free to go there.

Sending my pms is perfectly fine too.

**Other stuff:**

I am starting to go though everything and edit and change stuff, so just as a warning, chapter one might be made into more than one chapter (it’s 20 pages long O.O) and other things might change as well, so you’ll be receiving some chapter updates soon. I actually suggest re-reading some stuff, as I might be changing it around a bit, but that’s up to you. Until then, chapter 9 might make a bit more sense if you reread chapter 1. 9 will be up very soon, so be ready. Until then, toodles and thank you so much for reading A Potion!!!


	10. 9

**A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been sending such nice reviews and been reading my story. I love you all. You are too kind. I hope I can produce stuff that all of you will enjoy in the future. (hugs)**

_Previously in ‘A Potion’:_

_Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Oh, how he hated traveling by portkey. He looked over at the empty potion vial that would be his transporter. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to go to some unknown place and wait, not knowing what was happening to his friends and his home. He wasn’t ready to admit that Voldemort was so close; that times were so dark and dangerous. Harry wasn’t ready. He wasn’t nearly ready. And Severus. He would have to face Severus when he woke up._

_Harry wasn’t ready for that either._

_Harry swallowed and looked up into the ever-glowing eyes of the Headmaster._

_“I’m ready,” he said._

Chapter 9 

Harry shivered and stood, wishing he could rip his stomach out so that he would never feel the familiar pull at his navel again. He blinked back his dizziness and swallowed, his throat dry. Looking over, he saw Severus lying, still unconscious, on the floor, and rushed over to him.

“You’re lucky you weren’t awake for that,” Harry muttered, kneeling by the unresponsive professor. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, taking his wand from his robes. “Levicorpus.”

Severus rose into the air and Harry softly guided him over to the bed, laying him down with the utmost care. Only then did Harry realize that he hadn’t taken in his surroundings. He squelched the nervous feeling in his gut and looked around.

It looked just like an apartment, which surprised the young wizard. He had been expecting someplace dirty or cold, like Grimmuald Place or the dungeons of Hogwarts. He wasn’t expecting a small, cozy living area. It wasn’t big, and it was pretty easy to guess where everything was. There were two beds, one of which Severus currently occupied, a fire crackling in the wall to his right, a large table with a few chairs, and a bathroom to his left. It was simple.

Harry frowned. Why wasn’t there a kitchen? How in the world did Dumbledore expect him to get food? Panicking, Harry swung his head around, searching for a door. There wasn’t one. Who knew how long they would be down here before Dumbledore realized his fatal error! He and Severus would starve! Harry’s palms began to sweat and his heart rate sped. Then, he realized, with an embarrassed shame, that Dumbledore, being the places secret keeper, would undoubtedly know where to send food. Of course. Food would just appear. He hadn’t thought of that.

Harry shook his head and calmed his pounding chest. He still wasn’t used to magic.

Noticing that the potion vial was still clasped tightly in his fingers, Harry loosened his grip so he wouldn’t crush the thick glass. Which reminded him… Dumbledore had said Severus would need a potion dose right when they arrived at their destination, seeing as the potion could have some terrible side effects if Severus had ingested it before the trip.

Summoning the little courage he had left, Harry removed the potion from his robes and filled the vial.

Severus would have to wake up for this, but Harry would have to work quickly, as the Potions Master’s consciousness would probably not last long. Harry sat on the side of the bed, his heart speeding up once more, but this time it was accompanied with a fresh ache, still quite painful and unbearable. Harry resisted the urge to cry as he looked upon the older man’s face, which was wrinkled slightly in pain even in his slumber. A few stray raven locks fell over his gaunt cheeks and Harry brushed them away reflexively, letting his fingers run delicately along the pale cheekbone of Severus’s face.

He grasped his wand and pointed it at the teacher, muttering, “Ennervate”, and flinched as the dark black eyes fluttered open, confused.

“Har…?” Severus couldn’t seem to finish the word, either from weakness or confusion.

“I need you to swallow this,” Harry said quietly, his heart wrenching. He felt a wave of the old anger come back, rushing over him in drenching torrent, but he drowned it with the task at hand. He pressed his palm to the back of the man’s head, lifting it slightly and pressing the vial to his lips. Severus’s eyes struggled to remain open, but his gaze never left Harry’s face even so. Harry didn’t meet his eyes and coaxed the professor’s lips open. “Swallow,” he said, trying his best to sound soothing. Tilting the vial up, he poured the contents into Severus’s mouth, only to receive a pained coughing and spluttering; but, somehow, it was swallowed and he laid the wizard’s head back down on the pillow.

Finally, emerald eyes allowed themselves to meet ebony and Harry felt his face flush and head spin with emotion.

Severus’s eyes were filled with a hard pain. He seemed to be trying to find something, like he was lost. He frowned; whether from his own agony or the memory of the previous night, Harry did not know. Harry looked away quickly. He couldn’t help but feel guilty.

When he looked back, Severus’s eyes had closed once more. Harry sighed and looked over the face of his ex-lover. Last night he had been so angry, so hateful. He had said terrible things. Severus could have tried harder though. He could have done… something. Harry couldn’t just forget that Severus watched as Remus died.

But had he just watched? Or had Harry missed something?

Had Severus really done all he could? Had he done too much? After all, Voldemort realized him to be a traitor. Perhaps Harry just didn’t catch the subtleties of Severus’s actions. Harry felt his heart clench. Had he been found out because he tried to help Remus? Had Severus been tortured in his attempt to save the werewolf?

But, Harry saw it! He saw the whole thing! Severus had barely uttered a word. Voldemort had even given him the option!

Option?

Immediately, as if stuck in the face, Harry realized his stupidity.

Voldemort didn’t give options. He wasn’t giving Severus the choice to let Remus live, he was giving him the chance to prove his loyalty or let himself be known as a spy. If Severus had done anything more, he probably would have been killed on the spot.

‘I am a fool,’ Harry thought morbidly to himself, feeling tears burn their way up to his eyes again. He couldn’t apologize, though. He had lost most of his pride by this point. He still had to keep a bit of it. Severus hadn’t tried to stop him from leaving his rooms that night. He hadn’t come after him. That was reason enough not to do anything.

Harry’s thoughts traveled back to Hermione’s words, suddenly. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Harry shuddered and swallowed. Looking over to the sallow face of the sleeping professor, he closed his eyes tightly and a lone tear found its way down his cheek.

“It’s always been him,” he muttered.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_He was hovering on his broom, flying back and forth across the Quidditch field, his eyes searching for the snitch. Nearby, Goyle, newly appointed as the Slytherin teams second beater, grinned over at him and gripped the bat tightly in his hand, ready to swing as a bludger came racing in his direction. He hit it with full force and it went plummeting towards a very spaced out Potter._

_Potter noticed a split second before the bludger sliced the air where his head had been moments before as he clumsily dodged the angry ball. Chuckling at this display, Malfoy smirked at Potter and imitated the move, earning an annoyed eye roll in response._

_But Potter’s eyes weren’t rolling for long. His eyes darted quickly to the right and his expression turned serious. He had spotted the snitch. Half a second later, the two seekers were streaking towards it. It took a sudden turn straight up and they followed, both keeping a tight clutch on their brooms so not to fall off._

_Malfoy had caught up to Potter now. He elbowed the scowling Gryffindor in the ribs a few times, hoping to gain an advantage, but the stubborn teen didn’t budge. Malfoy had to admit, he could take a bit of discomfort._

_They were within just a few feet of the glittering prize; hands reaching, fingers stretching to their limit._

_Then he felt it._

_Right in the side._

_Malfoy gasped lightly and his eyes widened in shock._

_He had been hit with a spell._

_Who? Malfoy’s mind raced. Who had shot a spell at him? Before he could look around, he felt a sharp stab of pain in his side, and he slipped._

_Malfoy barely registered that he was falling to the ground. The air rushed into his ears like a freight train and images of horrified faces and halting brooms raced by his vision._

_Then, someone grabbed him. It was Potter, to his horror, and his rival pulled him onto his broom. Malfoy was too shocked to care. What had just happened?_

_He was about to snap at the other student, who was gawking at him most stupidly, but he was cut short when he saw Zabini’s mortified face, his arm hanging midair and a bludger flying towards them._

_Or towards Potter, more like._

_The brown beast hit the side of the other seeker’s head with a sickening crack, and Malfoy felt an annoying flash of fear as he saw Potter’s eyes go unfocused and blank._

_And then he was falling again, Potter along with him this time, and then there was darkness._

“Gah!”

Draco Malfoy awoke with a start, his dark green sheets tangled in a mess around his legs. He frowned and rubbed his eyes, shoving the vision of Potter’s blank expression from his mind. He had had the dream again. This wasn’t the first time and it was actually a memory.

It was from a Quidditch game not too long ago. A few weeks, months maybe. Draco didn’t care. He didn’t want to remember the humiliation of Potter saving him.

Draco snorted ungracefully, quickly looking around the dorm to make sure the action hadn’t been witnessed. Seeing that the flickering walls bore shadows only of furniture, he briefly wondered where his dorm mates were. Breakfast no doubt. It wasn’t like Slytherins to wake each other up. No, they had to rely on themselves to do that. Bloody gits. He’d miss breakfast now…

Draco slipped of the gray silk of his pajamas and neatly fit on his school uniform, taking his lazy time as he did so and scowling in the process.

Of course. He had to be saved by the bloody fucking Golden Boy. That was just cruel. It had been a harsh blow to his pride. He housemate’s had mocked his fall for about five minutes before he silenced them with various threats and harsh retorts. They weren’t foolish enough to mess with him. He was, after all, a Malfoy.

Draco sulked down the halls, sneering as a pair of small Ravenclaws moved quickly out of his way. He was turning freakishly similar to Professor Snape. He needed to fix that. He didn’t want to be as snarky as that man. Even if Snape had good intentions, he was far to cold, even to Draco.

Sure, he was a Malfoy. He was supposed to be calm, cool, collected. Undoubtedly it would be necessary to retain an air of supremacy sometimes, especially around mudbloods and the like, but that was because he was supposed to. The other Slytherins wouldn’t respect him in the least if they thought he was weak or, heaven forbid, unlike his father.

Not that Draco liked people like that mudblood Granger. No, he couldn’t stand her and Weasley and their pathetic group of hotheaded Gryffindors.

Gryffindors. Draco scoffed. They thought they were so high and mighty. He was a pureblood! He had been trained in dark magic since he was a child; dealt with more than they could imagine from a “greasy ferret”. He couldn’t stand them.

Contrary to popular belief, however, he did not hate Potter. No, he envied him.

He had friends, stupid, reckless courage, and fame.

Draco wouldn’t admit it, but he felt sorry for him too. Potter had so much on his plate; the fate of the Wizarding world on his shoulders. Perhaps that was why he had lost so many brain cells. Draco chuckled to himself and entered the great hall. He swept past the Gryffindor table and noticed, interestingly enough, that Granger and Weasley were there, but Potter was nowhere to be found. He frowned slightly and sat down in his seat next to Crabbe and Zabini. Had the eternal klutz found his way into the hospital wing again? Draco rolled his eyes. Sometimes Potter was worse than Longbottom.

Draco picked at his eggs. He wasn’t particularly hungry. He’d woke up with a sore stomach. It felt like someone had dropped a bunch of stones into it. He had felt that feeling before. It was the day that his father had first talked to him about the legacy he was supposed to fulfill. He had felt that feeling in his gut the day his father told him that he would have to become a Death Eater.

Draco swallowed down a few bites so as to not provoke questions from his classmates and head off to his first class, wondering why the feeling; the dead, cold weight of a foreboding event lurking behind the next corner; had come back this day. What had happened? Or, for this was more likely the question, what was going to happen?

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Draco wandered aimlessly around the darkening grounds of Hogwarts. It was late evening now. The sky had turned to a dry navy like an old pair of muggle jeans. The moon, starting its nightly glow, bathed the ground in an eerie shine. He stuffed his hands into his robe pockets and looked around to make sure no one was around. Sighing, he slouched a bit, relieved to put some pressure off his back now that he didn’t have to stand like there was a stick up his arse.

His mind clicked back into gear and, unfortunately, he began to think again. He hadn’t seen his Head of House again today. The man had been gone for quite a while now. He knew full well he was a Death Eater, but he also had his suspicions that the man was a spy for Dumbledore. If this was true, perhaps Voldemort had discovered him.

His father spoke of the Dark Lord’s greatness all the time. It was unlikely that even Snape could keep a secret from him for long.

Greatness. That was what he was supposed to achieve, supposedly. He had to be as great as his father. He had to live up to the Malfoy name. But what was the Malfoy name anyway? It was a name that made people think of prejudiced, nasty, manipulative bastards; that’s what the name was. Draco didn’t want to be thought of as that. He didn’t need to be liked, but it’s not like he wanted to be hated either; but his father had told him; warned him. He had to be like a Malfoy. He couldn’t be weak. He couldn’t be liked. There was no room for that. There was only power and ambition.

Draco was as ambitious as any Slytherin. He wanted glory. He wanted success. But he didn’t want to kill people for it. There were other methods than being a pawn of some lunatic. That’s all his father was: a pawn. He was being utterly and completely used, and he was foolish enough to call that power. What Voldemort gave him wasn’t power. It was a false existence.

Draco wasn’t false. He wanted to make his own way. He didn’t want to be told what to do. Which was why he hadn’t taken the dark mark… yet. His father would force him eventually. He beat Draco sometimes. He told him he would be forced. His mother had been reluctant to let Draco go. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t yet been dragged to a meeting and given the mark. He had to thank her for that. Not verbally, of course, but he was, in a way, grateful.

Draco hated his father more than anything. The man loved blood. He loved death and torture. He was as little of a human as Voldemort himself was. What was the point of being the best if there was no one left to be better than? Why kill everyone? What the hell was the point?

The air went chilly for a moment and a harsh breeze bit at Draco’s face. He grimaced and kept walking, his perfectly set hair not moving a millimeter in the wind.

That time, in their first year at Hogwarts, he had offered Harry Potter his friendship. Now that he thought about it, it had been wise for the boy to refuse. Draco was the son of a Death Eater. That friendship could doom their only hope for survival. Draco was on Dumbledore’s side, even if he did think the old man to be a bit senile. The Headmaster had a great deal more sense that the Dark lord. That much was obvious. Everyone knew full well that Dumbledore was the only man Voldemort feared except, perhaps, Potter.

Potter. How pathetically unlucky to be given such a role just as a baby. Most of the Slytherins laughed at jokes about the Golden Boy. Huge ego with all the popularity, but he wasn’t like that. Maybe that’s why he annoyed Draco so easily. Saint Potter. How could you not get a big head with all those fans? It wasn’t normal, not to have an ego. How could he just shrug it off? How could he try to be normal when everyone depended on him?

And why had he saved him?

Why had that goddamn bastard saved him! It was infuriating. After years of trying to be better than Potter. After years of trying to prove himself. He had shown weakness in front of him once again. And of course Potter had to go and be the hero. Draco would have rather died. He wanted to save, not be saved. He wanted, just once, for his nasty personality created from years of his father’s grooming, to not matter. He wanted to be the hero. He wanted to be smiled at. He wanted to be respected. He wanted to help…

How was he supposed to help when Potter always overshadowed him? What was the point if no one noticed him anyway? Why couldn’t he just be better for once! Draco clenched his fists tightly and his skin pinched underneath his nails.

He wondered when the time would come to finally face his father. It wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would most likely be the last confrontation they had. It would be a battle.

The last one.

Draco knew there would be one; a final battle. Everyone knew, but no one spoke of it. No one spoke of the time when Voldemort would finally seek out Potter and attempt to destroy him and everyone alongside him for good.

It was inevitable. That day would determine the fate of the world and every person on it. It would tell if the world would become clouded over by evil, or begin a time of peace.

Everyone had the same question on their minds. It tortured them in their sleep, haunted them in their waking hours, and troubled them with every step they took:

When?

Suddenly, Draco’s ears perked at a hushed muttering down by the lake behind some trees. Intrigued, he took a look to see Granger and Weasley, along with Weasley’s little sister, whispering fervently to one another. Smirking, he stepped from the brush and sauntered over to them. “Planning another party for Pretty Potter?” He sneered, trying his best to look uninterested.

Ron scowled. “What do you want, Malfoy? Don’t you have to go torture some Hufflepuffs or get your goons to steal someone’s lunch money?”

Draco frowned, he didn’t always go around and torture people. “Where is Potter anyway? Did he finally decided to ditch you losers? First smart move he’s ever made.”

Ron stood up from his spot on the ground and waved his fist in Draco’s face, his face beat red. “For your information, Malfoy, Harry’s-!“

“Ron!” Hermione silenced him as she and Ginny stood up beside him.

Ron frowned, but his mouth snapped shut.

“Ball and chain, eh, Weasley?” Draco snickered and grinned maliciously. “Let your girlfriend boss you around?”

“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Hermione replied levelly, though her cheeks turned a light shade of crimson.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak to me, Mudblood,” Draco spat. He forced a look of disgust onto his face as he regarded her, imitating the facade of being affronted.

“You should know about ball and chain, Malfoy,” Ron shouted out, his ire evident. “After all, I bet you’re a death eater by now. Daddy’s little boy.” He stepped into Draco’s face tauntingly, provoking a fight just as a foolish Gryffindor would do.

Draco was about to growl out a reply when a sudden crack, then another, and another reverberated though the air. That was the sound of someone apparating. Spinning around, Draco peered out towards the end of the apparation wards. Sure enough, the was a dark mass within the night. People.

“What the…?” Ron’s voice had gone quiet.

Ginny gasped audibly and they all shifted on their feet uncomfortably.

Who had come to Hogwarts?

“Do you think it’s the Ministry?” Ron questioned, “Aurors?”

“I can’t tell…” Hermione replied, moving near Draco to squint into the distance.

Draco didn’t even think to tell her to get away from him. He could only cringe as he felt the feeling in his stomach double its previous uncomfortable level. So this was why his had felt strange all day. His senses were never wrong.

“They’re not Aurors…” he muttered, sounding stony and apathetic.

“How would you know?” Ron asked, irritated. “Can see in the dark that far can you, Malfoy?”

“Don’t you have any feeling in your gut, Weasleby?” Draco retorted. “What kind of wizard are you that you can’t even feel that aura? That’s no friendly muggle-loving group over there.”

“Are you saying that…?” Hermione’s eyes widened in realization.

Suddenly, one of the figures moved forward from the rest and waved its wand into the air. A green jet of white-green light streaked upwards and the dark mark exploded into the sky with a hiss.

“I think that answers your question, Granger,” Draco said grimly.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed, stumbling backwards. “Why are Death Eaters here?” He looked frantic.

Hermione seemed frozen. Then, as if struck by something, he face turned serious and she pulled out her wand, whirling around to face Ginny. “Ginny, go warn Dumbledore and everyone! Run as fast as you can!”

“What about you?” Ginny squeaked, “You’re not going to fight them alone, are you?”

“Don’t worry about us, Ginny,” Ron muttered somberly as he grabbed his wand as well. Draco was surprised by the unfaltering resolve in the redhead’s voice. “We’ll hold them off. Just go!”

Ginny took off in a frightened sprint, dashing desperately towards the castle.

They turned back around to see the mass drawing closer to the school, their glowing white masks and dark, hooded cloaks now visible as they stalked with deadly precision. There were at least fifty of them. There was no way a few students could hold them off for long.

Draco sighed and tried to calm his raging heartbeat as two of his enemies moved to stand by him, their wands drawn.

Ron turned to look at him and, with some resistance, Draco met his gaze. Ron nodded and with a strange rush of relief, Draco realized something. They knew. After all those years of fighting and insults, they knew. They knew he was on their side.

He drew his wand and straightened. The three walked out onto the grounds and stood before the most dangerous people on the planet, side by side, wands raised, and none of them felt fear. In fact, all apprehension seemed to vanish into the night air as they stood there.

The question was answered.

When?

Now.

Tonight.

This very moment.

It was time for the fate of the world to be decided.

Draco’s slender fingers tightened around his wand, and with a deep breath, he shouted.

“Stupefy!”

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**Fkjhsfkjdsf. Good god… it was bloody difficult to write from Draco’s point of view. I think this chapter turned out shitty, but oh well. Maybe you guys’ll think otherwise. Review and tell me I’m pretty!**


	11. 10

**A/N: Sorry for the wait again! Here’s chapter ten. A fairly dramatic one, to say in the least. Once again, thanks for the reviews. Warning: the story is almost over guys!**

_Previously in ‘A Potion’:_

_Ron turned to look at him and, with some resistance, Draco met his gaze. Ron nodded and with a strange rush of relief, Draco realized something. They knew. After all those years of fighting and insults, they knew. They knew he was on their side._

_He drew his wand and straightened. The three walked out onto the grounds and stood before the most dangerous people on the planet, side by side, wands raised, and none of them felt fear. In fact, all apprehension seemed to vanish into the night air as they stood there._

_The question was answered._

_When?_

_Now._

_Tonight._

_This very moment._

_It was time for the fate of the world to be decided._

_Draco’s slender fingers tightened around his wand, and with a deep breath, he shouted._

_“Stupefy!”_

Chapter 10 

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, grimacing as his headache throbbed again. They’d been in their hiding place for the far end of three days now. At first, Severus’s consciousness had only been fleeting, but the potion worked at extraordinary speeds and he had woken for hours at a time now. Each of these times, Harry would promptly lock himself in the bathroom before Severus could utter a word. The Potion’s Master, keeping either dignity or respect, did not try to pry Harry from the room and let him be, a sad mist in his eyes. Harry would hide in there for hours, resolute not to leave the tiled haven until Severus was asleep once more. The only exchange they had was when Harry fed the Professor or gave him his potion, and neither seemed to desire speech, discontent and weak in their silence.

Harry was sitting in an armchair across from the fireplace, staring solemnly into the dancing flames. He glanced, almost painfully, over to Severus’s bed as he heard the man stir, and felt his heart stop as his eyes met with black coal. They sat that way for the longest time; staring at each other.

Severus had propped himself up against the headboard of his bed. His expression was firm and blank, but his eyes shone vigorously, as if he had decided something. Harry felt his emotions well up strongly and he could see images floating softly before his eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice begging and eyes not wavering from Severus’s. The images ceased immediately.

“Do not give me so little respect as to deem me unworthy of an answer, Harry,” Severus whispered after a moment.

Harry finally looked away, his emerald orbs straying once more to the fire. “I don’t…” he muttered. “How can you not know?”

“I did everything I could. You know that,” Severus said, his voice much stronger than before. He sounded as if he understood Harry, but he didn’t. Confusion twisted inside him like a monster, clawing at him and taunting him to cry out.

“Yes, I know,” Harry replied, his voice now a whisper as Severus’s had been before. “But it wasn’t that, and I think you know that too. It’s understandable-”

“Then what was it?!” Severus growled, grimacing as he felt his ribs clench angrily. “You said you loved me and yet you spat everything I gave you back in my face! Tell me how that is understandable, Potter!”

Harry winced at the sound of his last name and his face reddened. “It wasn’t real, Snape,” he spat, immediately feeling his heart wrench at the statement.

Severus’s face was no longer calm, but shocked and angry. “Wasn’t real?” It was as if he had felt the need to repeat it in order to more understand the words. To Harry, the repetition only drove the dagger deeper into his heart. But he couldn’t stop now. It was the truth. None of it had been real. It was all because he grabbed the wrong stupid pumpkin juice one morning. It was all because of… “Some stupid potion,” Harry grumbled aloud. He jumped when he realized he had spoken. At first, he felt horrified that he had let that slip. He had never spoken a word of Lavender’s potion to Severus.

Then, a kind of grudging and uncomfortable calm settled over him. Finally, he had said it. He had said what had worried him all along; the fact that had haunted him so much that he had not even thought of it too strongly.

_It was all because of a potion._

Severus sat, stunned, and he looked away from Harry as one of his slim hands clenched into a fist. What Harry had just said couldn’t be more cruel. It’s couldn’t possibly be true. Harry loved him! Had it all been a lie? Every kiss, every touch, every time they made love? Was none of it real? Severus felt a wave of anguished humiliation wash over him. He, the Potion’s Master, had been fooled by none other than a potion.

Severus wanted to ask. He desperately wanted to. Was it true? He was afraid. He hated to admit it, but he was. Severus Snape was afraid to ask one simple question. He was afraid of the answer. “Is that true?” Severus choked, his shame only growing in his stammer.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut short as he heard a grinding hiss sound from behind his chair. Harry shot up from his chair and whirled around to face the source of the sound. He heard Severus stand from his bed hastily behind him. A dark, sleek body slithered from behind the maroon leather.

“Nagini!” Harry exclaimed, recognizing Voldemort’s loyal pet snake.

“What the hell?” Severus grunted.

**“Hello Potter boyyyyy,”** Nagini hissed lowly, bobbing her head in the air. **“Masssster issss comiiiiing.** ” Even through her scaly features, Harry could see a reptilian grin.

Harry turned to give Severus a terrified look, but he slapped himself mentally when he realized that Severus wasn’t a Parselmouth. “She says Voldemort is coming…” Harry didn’t seem to believe the words himself. “I… I don’t know what she means.”

Instead of surprise, which Harry had expected, Severus merely frowned and his eyes darkened. “It had to happen eventually.”

“But I don’t understand!” Harry cried out. “We were supposed to be in hiding! How in the world did he know where to find us?”

“Don’t be dense,” Severus stated as he nodded towards the snake on the ground. “Nagini is part of the Dark Lord. It’s obvious that she has a connection with him.”

Harry’s eyes widened in realization. “He sent her to track us! Even so, how did she get here?”

“You act as if I know all of the answers,” Severus furrowed his brows and glared down at the gleaming reptile.

“ **Heyyyyy,** ” Nagini hissed, obviously not enjoying her lack of attention. **“I’m sssstill here, you know. Don’ttt be foolishhh Potter boyyy. It wassss easssy for meee to ssslip into your baggg.”**

Harry was too frantic to listen to the gloating snake. Instead, he was panicking. “No one’s here! We’re all alone! We can’t defend ourselves like this!” Harry was pacing heatedly around the room, waving his arms about and clutching them to himself every few moments as if he feared they would fall off with his gesticulations.

He was interrupted in his paranoid rant by a loud crash above him. The three occupants of the room all turned their eyes upwards as the room began to shake. Harry shouted as a large chunk of the stone ceiling fell down to the floor and broke into a thousand dirty pieces.

“Wait!” Severus yelled over the horrendous roar of shaking stone. “I think I know where we are! Harry!”

Harry was still holding himself like a wounded child. He turned to the Professor to see him waving towards him; beckoning him. Harry went to him without hesitation and Severus grabbed his arm roughly.

“I was too weak to feel it before,” the older man said, his raven hair falling at strange angles around his pale face. “Just now, I felt the dropping of magical wards. Those are Hogwarts wards. No other feeling. I’m sure of it.”

“Dumbledore hid us in Hogwarts?!” Harry shouted. “What the hell kind of ridiculous plan is that?”

“Well it was the last thing you expected, wasn’t it?” Severus retorted, looking Harry in the eye.

Harry swallowed, but didn’t reply. It was true. The last thing he would have thought of was to hide in the castle when that was the last place he was supposed to be. Ingenious, but fallible, as Nagini had proven.

Without warning, Severus apparated them from the room. Harry felt his body dissolve into imperceptible bits for the slightest moment. Then, they were standing in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor.

“So we were here…” Harry sighed. “That means all of my friends are in danger...” As if Harry’s own words had inspired him, he immediately drew his wand and straightened. A muddle of screaming voices could be heard down the hall, and Harry took off towards the garbled speech with a valiant speed, Severus not far behind him.

Harry didn’t have time to think. He knew what it meant. He felt it. The day had come. Voldemort had finally risen from hiding in the shadows, and he had come for Harry. Harry’s fear had been blinding at first, but the years had shaped him, and he was no longer a child. Passion and bravery took over, and the only thought on his mind was settling this once and for all. It was time to finish this.

It didn’t help, though, that a single line was continuously running through his mind. It was a line from the prophecy, and he knew that this would be the day the prophecy was to be fulfilled. “ _… either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_ ” This meant someone was going to die. It was inevitable, Harry knew. He wanted desperately to win. He wanted to triumph over Voldemort and stop the nightmare that surrounded him, but that meant he’d have to kill someone. That meant he’d have to be a murderer.

That thought was even more horrifying than his own death. At times, the young Gryffindor had laid awake night after night, wondering, hoping, dreaming that there was some other way to succeed; that there was some other way to live up to his title as The Boy Who Lived. Ron had just told him that it was ridiculous. Voldemort was not a person, he was pure evil. Even so, it would feel like killing a person, and no matter how vile their core was, they still had flesh. Harry could hardly stomach the idea of murder. Could he even do it? Would he come to face his greatest foe and have his blood run cold and his body fall heavy? Would he fail?

Harry whirled around the corner at great speed, his trainers squeeking along the marble floor as he slid by. He hadn’t realized that he was near the Great Hall, which was now what greeted his eyes. Along with the sight stood one very enthused looking Lucius Malfoy, whose wand was pointed straight at Harry’s chest.

Harry heard the shout of Severus calling out a spell and the raspy voice of his opponent, but being preoccupied with Lucius aiming to kill him, Harry had much more to worry about at the moment.

“Well, well, well,” Lucius drawled. “What do we have here? My master will be so terribly pleased when I bring him your dead and mangled body.” He sneered. “Oh yes. Very pleased indeed.”

Harry jerked his wand in the elder Malfoy’s direction, a spell halfway out his mouth before Lucius uttered “Expelliarmus!”, sending Harry’s wand flying across the room to clatter on the wooden top of the Ravenclaw table.

“Now, Potter,” Lucius spat, raising his wand in the air as Harry stared on, helpless. “Time to die, you insignificant little brat!” He waved his wand forward. “Avada Ked-“

“Avada Kedavra!” a voice shouted from behind Harry. A jet of green light shot past Harry’s ear, singing the hair around it. It hit Lucius square in the chest and his body twisted backwards like he was pulled quickly by a large, invisible rope. He fell slumped next to the Gryffindor table, his eyes open and glossy and staring into nothingness. Lucius Malfoy was dead.

Harry was almost afraid to turn around. Even though the person had saved him, he felt fear for that curse. Whoever uttered it could not help but to insight a quaver in his skin. He turned slowly, and who he saw was not at all who he expected.

“Malfoy…?”

Draco grimaced at the utterance and glared daggers at Harry. “You saved my life, I saved yours. I won’t be indebted to you, Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off. “Didn’t think I forgot, did you? Blow to my pride as it was Potter, it was still, regrettably… generous of you.”

“But he’s…” Harry glanced back at the sprawled body of Lucius. His white-golden hair was thrown about his gaunt cheeks in an almost angelic display. “He was your father.”

“And he would have done the same to me,” Draco stated bluntly. “I didn’t do that just for you, Potter. Don’t think this changes anything. I’m still your rival.”

“I…” Harry was at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe Draco had not only saved his life, but killed his own father in doing so! Hary felt guilty for doubting Malfoy’s loyalties. He’d always had a feeling the Slytherin had been on their side, but he’d judged him by the actions of his father and his own snarky attitude; and he had to admit, he’d assume the worse about the cocky boy. “Thank you.”

“Shut up.” Draco waved Harry away. “I believe you have some unfinished business with someone anyway. Quit standing around here like an idiot, Potter.”

Harry faltered for a moment, unsure of what to do, but he nodded and forced his feet to move. Draco was right. He had to find Voldemort.

“Potter.”

Harry craned his neck to face Draco once more. A pair a siler eyes met his own and Harry felt the other student’s desperation radiate through them. Draco sighed and his grip tightened around his wand. He opened his mouth once, but no sound came out, so he tried again, and croaked two words from his chapped lips.

“Don’t lose.”

Harry found it difficult to swallow as he forced saliva down past the lump in his throat. “I won’t.” He felt decietful fo such a promise, but he couldn’t say anything else. Morbid as it was, something about the fact that Draco had fought for him, killed for him, made him feel empowered. Harry felt as if the boy before him was everyone in the world; all depending on him. Everyone needed him to win. “I promise.”

Draco’s countenance did not waver, but for one imperceptable nod, but Harry saw it and gave his own. And with one last look into each others eyes, as if to derive comfort from one who had once been a rival, they both turned to face their demons, both praying over and over again that they would live to see tommorrow.

As soon as Harry was out of sight, Draco collapsed to his knees, his eyes set upon his father’s crumpled form. He began to tremble as though he’d been left out in a blizzard for far too long and he bowed his head, a lone tear streaking to the tip of his pale nose. “Don’t lose, Potter…” he repeated. “For Merlin’s sake, don’t lose.”

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Ron fell to the ground. His leg jolted painfully as the severing charm slashed by it and a gash appeared moments later through his torn robes. “Dammit!” he cried, as he felt the warmth of his blood seep down into his sock.

“Ron!” Hermione screamed, casting a sheild as yet another jinx careened her way. She looked frantic, her bushy hair in even more of a tangle than usual.

“I’m fine, ‘Mione!” Ron hollered, trying to console her in whatever way he could.

He was, of course, not fine. None of them were fine, or even ok, or satisfactory. They were in terrible trouble. The Death Eaters hadn’t killed any of them yet. They were toying with them, making them suffer. They were succeeding, as it were.

A few comrades had joined them over the moments. Ginny had returned with not only Professors, McGonnagal, Flitwick, and Hooch, but a few students as well; many of which had been in Dumbledore’s Army the year previously. Dumbledore had set off in search of Harry, and they had yet to see either of them, though the night was not the kindest on the eyes. Hagrid had heard the commotion from his hut and had come up from behind the Death Eaters; but there’s not much one can do with a pink umbrella. The giant, lucky as he was, had a thick skin, and many minor spells bounced right off of him; but they wouldn’t be minor for long.

“Crucio!” squeeled one awful looking Bellatrix Lestrange as she jerked her ebony wand towards Ginny. Ginny’s scream echoed into the night and chilled the marrow of those good people around her. Her shrieks aided Ron in forgetting his leg and jumping up. He ran furiously after the cackling woman who held his sister in pain and bellowed, “Relashio!” sending the witch backwards with her robes singed.

“Thank you, R-Ron,” Ginny stutter, struggling to get to her feet.

“I don’t want you out here, Gin,” Ron grumbled, helping her to her feet.

“I’m a year younger than you Ron!” Ginny replied defiantly, “And it’s safer out here with you than alone and with a Death Eater, should I come across one!”

“Well let’s have you come across one, dearest!” howled a Death Eater nearby. He had long since discarded his robe and mask and his eyes looked ravenous.

“Ron!” Hermione yelled, looking mortified as she casted stupefy to a nearby enemy. “That’s Fenrir Greyback!”

“The werewolf?” Ron inquired as he looked upon the grinning man before him. “It’s not a full moon.”

“Oh,” Fenrir licked his lips and gave Ginny a decidedly nasty smirk. “But I don’t need a full moon to taste her sweet skin, now do I?”

This sent Ron over the edge. “Keep your filthy hands off my sister, you bastard!” Ron’s face contorted with rage. “Reducto!” He shouted. A jet of red light streaked towards the disturbed man only to be knocked out of its path by another spell.

“Now, now, Weasley,” Lestrange ticked, clucking her tongue like a disapproving mother. “Not very nice to cast that so close, you know. That could’ve killed him, little boy.” She wiped at her burnt robe asentmindedly, looking at it like a child would a dead pet. “Let’s play, boy.”

Before Ron could respond, she casted three curses towards him. He rolled out of the way and soon the two were entreched in a vicious duel. Meanwhile, Ginny was casting spell after spell at the drooling man that was slowly advancing upon her. He dodged them all with ridiculous agility and a gnarled hand shot out to grab her wrist. He wrenched her forward and pulled her to her chest. She sobbed dryly as his breath, reeking of rotted fish and sour milk, filled her nostrils. “Hello, pretty girl,” he purred, “Want to die nice and slow?”

Suddenly, he was tackled from the side. Ginny fell back a few feet from the force of the tackle and watched in a terrified amazement as Nevile Longbottom wrestled the oversized man. She’d never seen Neville look so powerful as he looked right then. No magic was being used as the Gryffindor sent his plant-loving fist into Fenrir’s cheek with a loud slap. Fenrir was clawing at Neville’s sides and his clothing and skin began to rip. Ginny rushed over to the two to aid her friend.

Hermione had been battling side by side with Luna as the elder Crabbe an Goyle continued to send an idiotic swirl of curses their way. “Petrificus Totalus!” Luna gasped when she saw a curse fly at her from behind her own. Without time to block, she took it full in the shoulder and felt the joint protest at the impact and come unhinged. She screamed in pain.

“Luna?!” Hermione turned to her agonized comrade.

“Dislocated,” Luna answered in huffed breath. “But don’t worry, my dad writes for the Quibbler and he says that disclocations are merely just overly exaggerated bruises, and that it’s much worse to have a horklump stuck to your back.”

Hermione didn’t have time to ponder this strange statement as a jet of yellow light flew past her head and into the night. She knew Luna would be fine, but she covered her anyway, fearing her friend’s ability to defend herself with one arm. She took a moment to glance around her. Draco was not in sight. He had run after two Death Eaters who had gone into the castle. Ron and Lestrange were still going at it. It looked as if the wound on Ron’s leg had gotten caked with mud and was no longer bleeding. Ginny and Neville were both fiercly battling Fenrir as a nameless Death Eater snuck up behind them. McGonnagal was swift to notice, though, and she hexed him before he reached the three.

But no matter the battle that was taking place; whether it was with an untransformed werewolf, a crazy witch, or two equally dumb wizards, everyone had the exactly the same thought on their mind as the gleaming Dark Mark shone in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the grounds like green moonlight.

“Where is Voldemort, and where is Harry Potter?”

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Harry was sprinting through the halls of the school towards the main entrance. He didn’t know where he was going, he just went. He forehead throbbed with another sting from his scar. Voldemort was close. He could feel it. As he saw the gargantuan doors, another thing crossed into his vision. Severus flew through the air into a large stone wall. His body thudded loudly as he made contact with the unforgiving foundation and he fell to the ground in a heap. Harry felt all the color drain from his face and he ran over to the fallen man.

“Severus!” Harry panted, shaking him. “Severus, please!”

Severus moaned. “Harry, behind yo-”

But Harry never heard the end of that sentence as his body was thrown upwards by an invisible force. His limbs moved on their own accord as he was slammed into the same wall Severus had been only moments before. Harry didn’t want to look down, but tha invisible force made him, and his eyes fell upon the nightmare himself: Lord Voldemort. His red, slitted eyes glared maliciously up at the young wizard and his sickly greenish hand was extended towards Harry. He jerked his knuckles a bit and Harry felt his body crush even harder into the stone. He cried out.

Voldemort chuckled. “Harry,” he hissed, his tone falsely soothing. “I can feel you struggle Harry. Does it hurt? Does it hurt as you feel your body, weak and helpless, crushing into nothingness? I hope it does.” He smiled and pushed his hand forward more, causing Harry to give a pained gasp as a few tears slipped out from behind his tightly closed eyelids. “Open your eyes, Harry,” Voldemort dragged out his name as if tasting the word. “Yes, open them. Look at my face. I said open them!” He forced his hand forward and Harry’s eyes opened in shock. His breath was now shaky and raspy. He glared down at the villian.

Voldemort exhaled triumphantly and waved his free hand in a salute. “Yes, yes,” he breathed, “See my eyes? I want them,” he coughed, his excitement seemingly overwhelming him, “To be the last thing you see.” He moved to press Harry further, to crush him into oblivion, but as Harry’s screams echoed throughout the castle, Severus’s mind kicked into action.

Severus stood slowly, watching as the Dark Lord crushed his former lover to death. Harry; his Harry. He couldn’t let this happen to him! Knowing it would most likely be the last thing he ever did, Severus threw a hex at his former master. Voldemort’s magical aura was too powerful, however, and it merel pushed him forward ever so slightly. Furious, Voldemort whirled around, his snake-like nose crinkled in ire. “Severus,” he growled, “How nice to see you!” With the last words he swung his wand towards the discovered spy and sent him hurtling backwards at great speeds.

Little did he know that his hold had weakened on Harry just enough to let the boy fall from his grasp, choking and wheezing, to the floor. Harry looked up to see Severus slam into what looked like some sort of magical barrier, but his confusion as to the source was not long-lived.

“You!” Voldemort cried angrily, pointing a crooked finger at the old wizard that stood regally across from them. Albus Dumbledore had caught Severus midair, safely keeping him from any further damage, and now he was gently lowering him to the floor, as he was once more unconscious.

“Tom,” Dumbledore said finally. “This is the las time you terrorize anyone whom I have found it my duty to protect.”

“Do tell me how you plan to prove that theory, you old buffoon,” the dark wizard retorted. “I’d love to see it.” He scoffed.

“As much as I wish that I could be the one to do this, for the sake of the people at this school and for Harry,” Dumbledore turning his twinkling eyes to Harry. Harry knew the twinkle was not as much out of confidence as it was out of sympathy, but it consoled him nonetheless. “I am not the one who can finally lay you to rest, Tom Riddle.”

“Do not call me by my filthy muggle father’s name, old man!” Voldemort shouted, enraged. “I will not fall tonight. It is you and that ridiculous ‘Boy Who Lived’! And now and forever everyone will truly know who is the strongest and to be most feared wizard in the world! Lord Voldemort will be known this night more than ever! Do you hear me?”

Dumbledore did not reply. He was staring at Harry. His face, calm, collected, and kind even now, showed no question to his message. ‘Be strong Harry.’ Harry knew it was now or never. He stood on wobbling legs and raised his wand in what he hoped would be the last time he would ever encounter this evil man.

“Voldemort!” He snarled. “You will not destroy everything I care about!”

The man in questions turned, scowl still set in place, and he raised his wand slowly to match Harry’s own. “This, my dear, dear Harry,” he smiled murderously, “Is the day I’ve been waiting for. Even in death, I want you to remember that I killed you and that I will kill everyone you love. One by one, your friends will fall, but not until they see you, Harry. With your pretty, _dead_ eyes staring through them. With your scar no longer a sign of triumph but defeat at my hand!”

“Quit talking and prove it you foul bastard!” Harry screamed, summoning all the anger he could feel within him. He remembered the years of torment caused by none other than Voldemrt himself. He thought of Cedric, and Sirius, and Remus, and his parents. He thought of all the people who had protected him, set all their faith in him. He thought of Severus and how much he had done for him; how much he had loved him. He thought of every breath he had every taken and every year with the Dursleys. It was now that this wretched life of death and misery and fear would stop. It was time, once and for all, for Voldmort to fall!

Harry felt all of the power and courage that he had ever known fill him, and he knew he was ready. As he opened his mouth and bellowed the words that he never thought would fall from his lips, he felt nothing but pure, unadultered, love for all the people who had ever been endangered by the man in front of him. He had been told once that it required nothing but evil and rage to cast such a curse, but he knew now that this was not true. As he thought of his friends, of Severus, of his parents and all the people he lost, Harry felt nothing but an urge to live up to what he meant to them and to protect them. This was his fate, his destiny, and it was all for them. He felt all fear of death slip away and any regard for his own life was gone. His power crackled around him and he closed his eyes as he let one last face flash before his eyes; Severus.

Harry could faintly hear Voldemort call out the curse. “Avada Kedavra!” It echoed in the back of his mind, but all Harry knew was the raven hair, the obsidian eys, and the pale, defined face; and he let go.

“Avada Kedavra!” Harry hollered, and two jets of green light met.

A blast of unfathomable proportions shook the castle and green light filled it. The battles outside stopped, and enemies lowered their weapons as they all stared in kind as the sky filled with an ethereal brightness from within the castle. The very ground began to shake and everyone, no matter their loyalties, felt their hearts stop at such raw and powerful dark magic. As the two sides clashed and the powers met, they were equal.

Harry forced all he had into the curse and he realized he was screaming. Voldemort was doing the same. He scratchy, fowl voice could be heard howling over the roar of the magic. They pushed. Back and forth, back and forth; the deadliest tango. Over the light and the roar, their eyes met. Crimson and emerald.

And both of them wondered which one was going to die.

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**Not much left guys! I’d say 1 or 2 chapters left and that’s it! Woo! I tried to really make a connection between people here. I wanted to show what everyone meant to each other and that the line between what is right and wrong and good in evil is much more fine than we can make it.**

**It probably sucked, but oh well. And sorry for typos or anthing My spell checker isn’t working, for some reason…..**

_Parselmouth: Someone who can speak to snakes._

_Relashio: A spell which creates heat from the end of the wand. If said strongly enough, it can knock a person off their feet._

_Horklump: A small, pink magical creature who likes to eat worms._


	12. 11

**A/N: Remember, the whole battle takes place in a matter of moments. It’s not as long as the writing. It happens in little more than the flicker of a few thoughts.**

_Previously in ‘A Potion’:_

_Harry forced all he had into the curse and he realized he was screaming. Voldemort was doing the same. He scratchy, fowl voice could be heard howling over the roar of the magic. They pushed. Back and forth, back and forth; the deadliest tango. Over the light and the roar, their eyes met. Crimson and emerald._

_And both of them wondered which one was going to die._

Chapter 11

Harry felt his arms tremble violently, making the pain in his shoulders almost unbearable. The heat and light radiating from the swirling mass of magic made him squint.

He emptied all he had into the blast, forcing his magic towards he snake-like man before him. Voldemort did the same, his thin chest heaving with anger as he felt the boy match his own power. But, from underneath the wrath, came a malicious smirk. His magic shifted forward as Harry, inexperienced in his youth, let his defenses fall.

Harry cried out as he felt the massive wave of heat come closer to him. He knew he was losing. He couldn’t keep up this dangerous game of tennis for much longer.

Then, in the roar of the raging light, Harry had a thought.

Is it worth it?

His eyes widened and he felt the little control he had over the combined curses start to slip. Voldemort was pushing it towards him. Harry could practically taste the looming prospect: death. It seemed not as fearful of a thought anymore. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe death wasn’t so bad.

Maybe he should just give up.

Harry let the white-knuckle grip on his wand loosen. He didn’t have to do this.

The magic slipped closer.

He didn’t have to kill this man; this beast. He didn’t want to. What was the worth of murder to stop murder?

Closer still. The prickling ferocity of the spells made the hair on Harry’s neck stand on end. His eyes began to water, his forehead started to sweat, his legs were shaking, and he didn’t care.

‘I could just die right now,’ he thought, his grip loosening even more. ‘It would all be over.’

Harry closed his eyes and waited; his heart no longer thrumming painfully against his ribcage; waiting for fate.

But, as fate may have it, though Harry had indeed given up on himself, there was another who was not so keen to see him fall. Harry’s eyes snapped open as a third jet of green light shot past his side and into the mess of twisting glows. Harry whirled his head to the side.

It was those eyes; those deep ebony eyes; that he saw first. Then the face; sallow and calm. Next to come was the hair; long, soft, and gleaming.

Severus.

Severus gripped his wand tightly and, right alongside Harry, he forced his own magic to the demon. He turned his head, slightly so, and looked at Harry silently, staring him in the face as if he were his own soul. Harry saw his eyes, and, knowing those eys better than his own, he saw the message there. He felt it, and with his tightening fingers and narrowing eyes, he tried with all his might to succeed.

Don’t give up.

Side by side, their magic combined. Side by side, they fought the now screaming monster. Voldemort shouted a vengeful oath and gave one last scowl of contempt before he too was part of the incinerating blow. And as the light filled what seemed to be the entire world, Harry and Severus watched, side by side, as Lord Voldemort became part of the wind; and deemed it fitting as his end.

Throughout the beating and the silent hearts of every soul who felt this man fade, there were the words that echoed in Harry’s mind as if they had been screamed. Perhaps they had, and would be. From the towers and balconies, and all heights, it could be screamed.

“At last. It’s over!”

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Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to Hermione, who his arm was currently wrapped around. She nestled her head tiredly into the crook of his shoulder and sighed. They had gotten together after the last battle; the one when it had all ended. They’d finally given up denying everything, especially after everything. They had face the deadliest people on Earth. They could of died. It was foolish to continue playing such a juvenile game when they could have both ended up dead.

Ron felt so right, with Hermione in his arms and his family and friends alive, but everything wasn’t as good as it should be. Voldemort had perished, defeated by none other than Harry himself. Harry had achieved the greatest victory that anyone in the Wizarding World had ever known. If he had been famous before, he was infamous now. No longer did he have to worry about the evil Dark Lord attacking him from behind the darkest corner. No longer did he have to worry about saving the world. He’d already done that. He should have been the happiest person out of all of them.

Yet, as Ron looked at his best friend of almost seven years, he knew that Harry wasn’t happy; not at all.

They were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone had flocked there after the celebration feast in the Great Hall. Dumbledore had given a huge speech about the fall of Voldemort and the victory of Harry. Harry hadn’t even been listening to it. Ron could see the glazed off look in his eyes. It was heart wrenching, seeing the hero of the world looking so cut off from it.

No one asked Harry about it. They chalked it up to him being shaken from the battle. After all, it was just three days ago that it happened. It must have been very traumatic, but Ron knew that wasn’t the source of his friend’s depression. Hermione knew it too, but neither of them were willing to say the unspoken name. Ron had figured it out not long after Harry had gone off into hiding. Of course, Hermione had done her share of explaining it to him, but he had his suspicions from the beginning. After all, what kind of best friend was he if he didn’t even know what was on Harry’s mind? Ron had been shocked about it, to say it delicately, but he knew that Harry would never do anything unless he really wanted to. It was apparent from Harry’s current silence that he’d been happy, as that happiness was completely drained now.

Harry was slumped in the stairwell leading up to the boys’ dormitory, as if he’d wanted to go up, but lost the motivation. He was staring forlornly at the back of the portrait of the Fat Lady, not showing any signs of acknowledging a pair of first years that crawled through it. He wasn’t frowning, per se, but his mouth was set into a soft line, and all the muscles in his face had gone lax. His emerald green eyes were flat and almost grayed, a sure sign that he wasn’t even present at all, but in a different world, all his own. He let out a deep sigh and the only movement he made besides this was to shift slightly against the wall. Harry was dead to the world.

Ron frowned, uncharacteristic for his freckled face, and he lifted his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His neck felt unusually stiff and he turned it to crack the joint. Hermione looked up at him, a worried expression lining her features. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice still groggy from the sort of nap she had been taking on his chest.

Ron’s only response was to look over at Harry and his moody stance. Hermione followed his gaze. “Oh,” she murmured, “I know…”

Nothing more was said as the both empathized for their friend. Ron felt almost as if Harry’s personal agony was being transferred to him, and it angered him that he could to nothing to help the saddened boy. Ron turned his gaze to the crackling fire. A bunch of boys from their dorm were gathered around it and swapping stories of the “doom’s day”. They had decided unanimously to keep their distance from Harry, knowing that it would do no good to talk to him right now. They didn’t know why, though. Ron knew why.

As soon as the battle had ended, and the green light faded from the entry hall of Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione had run through the main doors, terrified for their friend and what might have taken place. They’d come in to find three very worn and pained wizards. One was Harry. One was Dumbledore. And the last was Severus Snape. None of them seemed to notice Ron and Hermione’s entrance, as if they had lost all sense of the world around them. Ron had watched as Harry and Snape looked at each other for one long moment, their eyes swimming with emotion, and then Snape had turned away.

Harry and Snape hadn’t spoken since. Harry hadn’t spoken at all. The Potions Master hadn’t shown up to the victory feast, and no one questioned it. Not many people actually cared if he showed. Harry did. He’d glanced up at the staff table for one brief moment, a flicker of hope in his eyes, but the hope had been squashed quickly when he saw the dark man was nowhere to be found.

Ron unconsciously clenched his fist at his side. He had no idea what had happened between the two, but he did know that Harry was miserable. He had a duty to his friend. He had a duty help him. And, most of all, he had a duty to protect him.

Ron, his face resolute, carefully lifted his arm from around Hermione. “I’m going to go do something,” he said distractedly.

Hermione sat up and looked at him in confusion. “What? Where?”

But Ron was already stepping out of the portrait. He turned and glanced back at Harry, then his girlfriend. “Ill be back soon,” he said. With that, he was out of the common room.

Ron shoved his hands into his robe pockets and walked with a determination down the hall. A few stray students were hurrying from the feast to their common rooms, but he paid their excitable whispers no heed. He reached the staircase to the dungeons and felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He paused for a moment and turned slightly, his eyes resting on those of Dumbledore’s. The old man stared at him quietly, then nodded ever so slightly. For some reason, this only boosted Ron’s confidence. He felt his purpose much more strongly and he turned back around, heading down the stairs and into the dungeons.

When he reached the door, he hesitated. Ron ran a hand through his fiery red hair slowly and took in a deep breath. Forcing a hard look into his eyes, he knocked, twice, in hard and loud succession on the door. After a minute or so, the door opened cautiously. Tired, black eyes surveyed him for a moment before the door swung open fully.

Ron looked up at the man silently, staring, for the first time ever, straight into his eyes.

Snape looked at him without a word, his expression unreadable. Then, he stood to his full height of billowing, black robes… and stepped to the side.

“Come in, Mr. Weasley.”

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**Omg, I know it’s short, but I’d say a lot happens even so. I’m sorry. I really wanted to update fast. There should be only one chapter left, but it’ll definitely be longer than this one. Look forward to the end of ‘A Potion!’**


	13. 12

**A/N: Well this is finally it, guys; the end of A Potion. It’s hard to believe, really. I started this so long ago and now it’s ending. I hope you all enjoyed this right along with me and thank you for your patience.**

**Enjoy!**

_Previously in A Potion:_

_Ron looked up at the man silently, staring, for the first time ever, straight into his eyes._

_Snape looked at him without a word, his expression unreadable. Then, he stood to his full height of billowing, black robes… and stepped to the side._

_“Come in, Mr. Weasley.”_

Chapter 12

It was morning. The sky was a bright, cerulean blue with wisps of clouds scattered about its never-ending stretch of existence. The Hogwarts castle looked as majestic as ever, towering into the air, a home to many people, and a protective parent to all who stood inside it. It had seen much, including both the beginning and the end of Lord Voldemort; a vicious man that had tormented many and lost, numerous times, to one boy: Harry Potter.

Said boy was currently locked in the Gryffindor bathrooms, alone, and staring into a mirror with a countenance mixed of relief… and bitterness.

Harry frowned and brushed his bangs aside with his hand, exposing the thing that had had haunted his life and brought him fame at the same time. The lighting bolt scar was still as jagged and ominous as it had ever been, but a bit of its foreboding had been lost after the battle with Tom Riddle. At the man’s end, Harry’s scar had faded, ever so slightly, and now it was nothing more than a prying reminder of the past. It looked like ink that had almost washed off, but not quite.

Harry sighed, a hint of a jaded chuckle within the depths of his chest. Of course it wouldn’t disappear. His life, like the scar, was meant to be tainted for all eternity. It had been his destiny since the day Voldemort had come to Godric’s Hollow and killed two innocent people and failed to kill a mere baby. That baby grew into a life of dried, faded blood. That blood would never wash free completely. The dead would never be forgotten; the killers never forgiven.

It was as if Hell had cooled to a summer’s day. The heat was still obvious and uncomfortable, but just enough to make you sweat. It would always be that way. Harry had come to terms with the fact that life couldn’t just return to normal now that Voldemort was dead. It wasn’t that simple. Those of his generation and the ones before him would never forget the horrors that they had seen or the pain they had felt. That dull ache would never leave their hearts, and it wasn’t supposed to. If they lost that pain, history was bound to repeat itself.

Harry knew one day it would repeat itself.

He also knew, however, that Voldemort was finally gone. That was enough to help the scar fade. Even if it was just a little. Even if there were still going to be many trials now that it was, essentially, over. Even if there was still a hard future ahead. There was a future. That was what was important. He now knew he had a future. He didn’t have to wonder if tomorrow he would die or lose another person he cared dearly for. They all had a future now. No matter how difficult it was going to be, it was there.

Just like the remains of his scar and his memories.

Harry jumped away from the sink as he heard a loud crack in the bathroom behind him. He jerked around quickly to face the intruder who had just apparated into his privacy, his raven hair falling over the lighting bolt softly. Dobby stood there, meek and earnest as ever, looking up at Harry in a reverent silence.

“Dobby?” Harry asked, trying to calm his pounding heart from the surprise of the intrusion.

“Hello Mister Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby piped up happily when Harry said his name. “I is coming to tell… to give you a message for Harry Potter, sir. It is important, it is.”

“What is it?” Harry replied warily, leaning back against the sink.

“Dumblydore he wants to see you, Sir,” Dobby answered dutifully, straightening his little back a bit. “He sent Dobby especially, he did. He said I’d be perfect to tell Harry Potter. And here I is, telling Harry Potter to please go to the Headmaster’s office. He is wanting to see you urgently, Harry potter sir.”

“Dumbledore wants to see me?” Harry repeated to himself. He didn’t want to go, really. He knew what the old man would want to discuss. Voldemort, of course. Harry didn’t want to discuss that. He wasn’t ready. It had only been a few days since the whole thing, but he knew he couldn’t refuse to go, so he nodded to Dobby and smiled a bit. “Ok, thank you, Dobby.”

“I is happy to be of service Mister Harry Potter!” Dobby bowed so low his long nose poked at the tile of the floor. “And I must be telling you the password, it is being Treacle Tart sir.” Dobby bowed once more and disappeared with another crack from the room.

Harry rubbed his forehead in preparation for the conversation to come. It would definitely be a serious one. He knew that much. Harry hadn’t discussed the battle with anyone since it had happened. In fact, he’d barely spoken to anyone at all. Harry knew his silence had a root, but he’d hardly admitted to himself what it was. He didn’t want to admit it. He refused to think about it; about him.

Pushing himself from the sink and scratching his neck, Harry walked resolutely out of the dormitory.

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Severus sat in the bathroom of his personal chambers, his left sleeve pulled to his elbow and his curtain of silky black hair hanging around his tired face as he stared at the evil tattoo that had tarnished his skin and caused him so much pain. As soon as Voldemort had been no more, he’d felt a tearing pain at his arm, but it was hours before he’d had the courage to merely pull up his sleeve and look down. The Dark Mark had faded considerably, now just a dark blemish upon his pale skin. It was almost as if it had washed off, not completely, but enough to look as if it was only a bad memory, nothing more.

The first few days, the skin around it had been red and angry, but it had gotten used to the adjustment, just as he was beginning to swallow the idea that the Dark Lord was truly gone for good this time. It was almost a taunting thought. Was he really dead? After all this time… after all the years… was it finally over? It was hard to believe and Severus found himself replaying the fateful night over and over in his mind. He’d seen him disappear. He’d heard him scream. The scream still echoed in the back of his mind like it was still happening in a world far away.

Severus knew it didn’t all stop here. That much was obvious. It was foolish to believe that with one death it could be all good and done with. Things didn’t work that way. Severus had lived long enough to recognize troubling times. After all, his entire life had been troubled and it always would be.

The fact that he still bore the faded Dark Mark was enough of a warning to him about the future. He was an ex-Death Eater, and no matter how much he had done for Dumbledore and the Order, the fact that he had once followed the most evil man of the planet would not change. The Ministry of Magic would undoubtedly be in such a joyous celebration of the death of Voldemort that they’d want to set an impression on the Wizarding World. There would be Death Eater captures left and right now that the Aurors no longer feared the snake-like villain who led them. It was only a matter of time before they came knocking on Hogwarts’s doors. Dumbledore would defend him, he knew he would, but it wouldn’t be a friendly debacle, for sure.

Severus shook his head and ran a finger along the outline of the mark, shivering as he remembered a time when Harry had done the exact same thing. He used to do it all the time when they talked. The boy would lay on his chest and trace every detailed line, one by one, completely unabashed by the fact that the mark was one of pure evil.

Severus jerked his sleeve down roughly and pushed the memory of the raven-haired Gryffindor from his mind. It was best not to think about him.

Those words echoed in his mind still. Some stupid potion…

He didn’t have to ask to know what that meant. It was the reason why Harry’s interest had been so sudden and obvious. None of it had been real. Severus found himself squeezing his forearm tightly and he grudgingly loosened his grip. Ron Weasley had come to talk to him the night previously. He had to admit he had been genuinely surprised. He couldn’t possibly turn the conversation down. Severus wanted to know how Harry was. He couldn’t help it. It was on his mind constantly, even if he didn’t admit it.

Weasley had explained a lot. He had told Severus about Lavender Brown’s potion. He had told him about how become panicked and desolate Harry had become when Severus had shown up in tatters and how Harry had gone with him without a second thought into hiding. He’d defended Harry through and through, a truly loyal friend. Even though he knew what had happened now, Severus wanted to hear it from Harry, not from anyone else. Somehow, though, Severus knew that Harry wouldn’t come to him.

This was ridiculous. He’d hidden in his chambers since the incident. He’d been acting like a complete coward. The grip on his forearm tightened again. Severus Snape was not a coward. He shouldn’t be acting like one. Severus closed his eyes, his forehead wrinkled in thought. He couldn’t keep on hiding. He had to do something. The pain wouldn’t stop even if he talked to Harry, but at least he’d know what Harry thought. At least he’d be able to talk to him one more time…

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Harry squirmed in his chair uncomfortably, refusing to look at the Headmaster and instead focusing on Fawkes, who was eyeing him sadly.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said slowly and softly, “I won’t force you to look at me, but I’d much rather talk to your face.”

Harry immediately felt ashamed of himself. It wasn’t as if Dumbledore had done anything wrong. Turning to face the wise old wizard, Harry looked at his twinkling blue eyes in silence. Dumbledore watched him from behind his half-moon spectacles with a sort of pitying sympathy. He knew what Harry was going to through, and he hated the fact that Harry was in so much pain immensely.

He’d watched the boy with his friends, silent and unwavering, as if someone had snatched his soul right from him. He felt that he had a duty to help restore Harry’s soul, but he wasn’t so proud to deny that he couldn’t possibly do it all for the teen.

Dumbledore could only do so much for Harry, he knew that, but he still wanted to try and somehow make him feel even an iota better. Out of everyone, Harry deserved to be the happiest. Yet, he was more morose than everyone combined.

It wasn’t right.

Harry sighed far too deeply and gave a half smile to the Headmaster. Dumbledore repressed a frown and spoke. “Harry, my boy,” he began, making sure to keep eye contact. “I will not pretend to understand everything you are going through. I am not you, and therefore I will not act as if I were. Tell me. Give an old man the simple pleasure of your thoughts. I am here to help you.”

“I know that,” Harry said, looking away at the gadgets and trinkets that whirred all around the room. “I just… I don’t even know what I think.” He slouched a bit in his chair.

“It must be a relief that Voldemort is out of your life, Harry,” Dumbledore pressed gently, clasping his fingers together. “Yet, it must also be somewhat unreal to you. I know it is for me. Do you find that you wish for him to be alive still? Just for the sake of the life you’ve known for so long?”

Harry closed his eyes and fought back tears. Dumbledore’s question had hit him hard… because it was true. He had, for some brief moment, wished that he hadn’t succeeded. Sometimes he wished that he had died instead. “Is it wrong?” Harry asked quietly, trying not to sob it out.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “No Harry,” he said sadly. “It’s not wrong. Even in his evil, he was your life. He controlled every aspect of everything you held dear, with the power to take it away at any moment he pleased. Now that he no longer has that power, all of that control over your life has been unceremoniously handed to you.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Harry exclaimed, his voice cracking and face heating. “I just… He’s always been around the corner. All I’ve done is prepare for him. Everything… and now it’s over and I- I just don’t know what to do. I feel like I-“ Harry sobbed out loud and felt a traitorous tear roll down his cheek. “I don’t even know...” He buried his face in his hands, embarrassed and ashamed that he felt this way. “I’m supposed to be relieved,” he moaned into his palms. “I’m supposed to be happy. I am happy, but-“

“Where in the rulebook is that written?” Dumbledore interjected. “Where does it say you have to be happy just because he’s dead? If you were happy, I’d be even more concerned. Even the bad parts of our lives are still part of us. After years of the same thing, you become accustomed to what you have, be it wonderful or terrible. In your case, I feel the utmost regret to say, you had terrible things to handle. I wish with everything I have that I could have taken it all off your shoulders, Harry, but I couldn’t. You had it all, right there on your back. You do not know how to stand tall anymore, now that the weight’s gone.”

“No, I don’t!” Harry cried. “I want to, I do! Everyone’s celebrating and I just can’t feel the same way they do. I tried. I tried so hard, but is it over? Is it really over? I just can’t believe it. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Harry couldn’t believe he was ranting like this, he felt humiliation and immense relief at the same time. He was saying everything that had been repeating over and over in his mind since it had all happened. The thoughts that had plagued him were spilling out of his mouth, and it felt good.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Dumbledore said calmly, relieved to see the boy getting these thoughts off his chest. They weren’t the kind that you should keep inside. “Nothing is required of you, Harry. There is no norm or “right” way to act. You need to handle this how you feel it is right to. Voldemort is dead. You have to come to accept that on your own terms.”

“I…” Harry looked at a loss of what to say. Wasn’t it wrong to, in a way, mourn your enemy? Wasn’t it horrible to feel lost at Voldemort’s death?

As if reading Harry’s thoughts, Dumbledore spoke again. “As I’ve said before, it is perfectly normal for you to feel the way you do. You’ve finally stepped on to the next part of your life. It’s one of the biggest changes you will ever have to handle. That is a hard thing to comprehend.”

“I’m happy he’s gone,” Harry said after a moment, wringing his hands. “I just don’t believe it. I don’t believe it can really be over, just like that. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Would any ending have seemed right?” Dumbledore asked seriously, placing his clasped hands under his bearded chin. “No matter how it happened, it would have been an equal shock; equally unbelievable. It’s all you’ve ever known.”

Harry nodded slightly. “What do I do now?” He stared up at Dumbledore with a look of confused hope.

For the first time in their conversation, the Headmaster smiled. The twinkle in his eyes seemed restored and he let his hands sink back down to his desk. “You live, Harry,” he said simply, “You finally live your life.”

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Draco Malfoy was outside of the castle, leaning against a dew-covered stone wall and staring out at the grounds. The world seemed to be misted over with the morning dew, like the clouds had fallen. It left a white haze all around him and a comfortable cold in the air. He was standing under an outer archway. His white-blonder hair wasn’t slicked back today. He hadn’t felt like fixing it. It was a small, but liberating choice. He felt like he had ripped away from his father just a bit more, but how much more can you fall back from someone who is dead?

Draco’s gray eyes looked left, then right, and finally down at the stone pathway under his feet. His father was dead and so was the man who had controlled him.

At last.

Draco was free of the shackles of his family. No longer would he be pressed to join the Dark. No longer would he be looked upon in disgust when he opposed a plan to foil Dumbledore. No longer did he have to play the role of the slimy, muggle-hating Slytherin. And he still had his dignity. Draco smoothed off his robes by reflex and glanced back up into the mist.

It would be difficult, though, after all of these years, to change so dramatically. Even though he now had the option, Draco knew he would still end up honoring his father, however unwillingly, with the traits from his childhood. He had been raised to be the hateful boy he’d become. No matter how much it disgusted him that he was like his father, he was, in part.

But… he was not his father. That was what mattered.

He’d made the right choice. Though Draco had strong and lustful ambition, he did not desire to be controlled or controlling like his father had been. Lucius Malfoy had controlled him. He had shaped the his character.

Draco was told that he looked like his father. This morning, he had noticed the resemblance. He’d looked into the mirror and not seen himself, but Lucius. He didn’t like that; not at all.

He’d killed the man, and now his ghost was haunting him right on his face. It wasn’t fair. Draco had thought when he killed him that he’d be gone once and for all, but it didn’t work that way, apparently. The big, lunky idiots that followed him everywhere reminded him too, but it wasn’t their fault. Their parents had been Death Eaters too, and Draco understood how it was, living with someone who killed and then came home to wash the blood off their hands.

Draco felt like the blood was on him because it had been on his father. He felt as though he was somehow responsible for the actions of the dead. Would he become his father? Would he become such a greedy, evil man? It made him sick to think it was a possibility, and maybe that sickness was proof that, no, he wouldn’t be his father. Yet, he had killed someone. Not only had he killed someone… he had killed his own blood.

He knew the man would have done the same to him, but that didn’t make any difference. He was guilty of murder, and so was Potter. Even more unbelievable was the fact that Potter had actually defeated the Dark Lord.

Draco knew it would happen one day. At least, he hoped it would. Everyone had put their faith in the green-eyed teen. In that respect, Draco felt sorry for him. He always had. He knew how difficult it was to have expectations burdened upon you. It was his entire life; expectations. The need to accomplish something great. Neither of the two boys had asked for what everyone else wanted for them, but they all wanted it anyway. They had no choice.

Draco had made a choice. He could no longer live bound by the shackles of the Malfoy family. His mother had done nothing to defend him the nights when Lucius had “reprimanded” him for refusing to take the Dark Mark. He could remember the agony of the Cruciatus curse vividly. It was a wonder he lasted so long, but he was strong. Draco knew he was strong, but not nearly as strong as Potter, who had been through twice as much as he had been.

Mostly, he had envied Harry more than anything. He’d somehow always manage to come out on top and defeat everything in his path. Draco had watched in a bemused jealousy all those years, not willing to show his admiration and envy. It was that pride, that wretched Malfoy pride, that had kept him from ever approaching the Gryffindor. Reputation. That’s what his father had taught him. Draco wanted to help Potter, but instead he was forced, both by his father’s word and his own foolish stubbornness, to watch by the sidelines.

If he’d made apparent his desire to help Potter, his father would most likely have killed him for such a betrayal. He’d tried to fake loyalties, he truly had, but he saw his father’s growing suspicion, and he knew the moment that he drew his wand alongside Weasley and Granger that he couldn’t go back.

Draco was sick of pretending and living from the rules set for him. It was time to set his own path. As he stepped away from the wall and back into the castle, Draco sighed inwardly and opened his eyes just a little bit wider. He let his fingers feel his blonde hair slowly and walked into the castle.

Harry Potter was at the other side of the huge entryway, headed towards the Great Hall, and Draco met him half way.

“Potter,” Draco stated, looking serenely at his rival.

“Malfoy,” Harry matched, his expression as blank as the Slytherin’s.

They stood like that for a second, quiet and unmoving in front the doors to the Great Hall and staring each other down. Then, on compulsion and at the exact same time, they both reached out a palm… and shook hands.

They kept their hands that way and each squeezed the other’s in one last gesture of understanding before they let go, entering the hall and separating to their respective tables.

And once again, life changed, ever so slightly, and the boys smiled secretly to themselves for the swiftest of passing moments, each feeling a bit more set in their own skin.

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Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione and they turned to him in surprise.

“Hi…” Ron said nervously, not sure if his friend was still on his streak of silence.

Harry turned to the two and smiled. “Hi.”

A look of relief and happiness flashed over the other two’s faces and they both patted Harry on the back happily.  
”Harry, you should eat something,” Hermione said, still walking on eggshells just in case Harry would sink back into his silence.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replied. “Listen, guys. I’m sor-“

“Don’t be,” Ron interrupted.

“We have no idea what you must have felt Harry,” Hermione took off of Ron’s statement, looking at her friend sympathetically. “After all you have been through, of course you were upset.”  
”We’re here for you, mate,” Ron added.

“Always,” Hermione agreed.

Harry smiled, a genuine one, and looked down at his empty plate. “Thank you,” he said, feeling his face heat up for the thousandth time that week.

“Eat, Harry,” Hermione said kindly, gesturing to the food on the table. “Please.”

Harry nodded and was about to reach for a spoon of eggs when he heard a voice that set his blood old and his heart beating drums against his ribcage.

“Mister Potter,” came the rumbling hiss from behind the trio.

Harry heard hesitance in the voice, but that was only because he knew it so well. Somehow, he couldn’t force himself to just turn around. It felt as if his entire body had turned to lead. He looked over at his friends, who looked just as surprised as him. Hermione nodded encouragingly and with a lick of his dry lips, Harry turned and faced Severus.

Harry couldn’t muster the courage to look him in the face or even speak, so he settled for staring at the man’s black cloak in silence.  
”I need to speak to you, Potter,” Severus said quickly, looking at the wall and not the cowering student. “Come with me, if you don’t mind.” Without waiting for a reply, since he probably wasn’t capable of standing still any longer, Severus began to walk out of the hall.

“Harry!” Ron urged when the other Gryffindor, his eyes downcast, didn’t move to follow. “Go!”

Harry found himself standing and following after the billowing robes ahead of him. They left the hall and Harry caught up to the Professor, walking a foot or two behind him. They walked in an uncomfortable silence, made even more so by the fact that both felt that they should speak. Neither, however, seemed to have their tongue. When they arrived at Severus’s personal chambers, the Potions Master entered without a word, and Harry lagged behind in hesitance. This was the interaction, out of all the others, that he dreaded the most and desired more than anything to have. He was torn. He swallowed loudly and with a few wobbly steps, he followed the teacher and closed the door.

Back in the Great Hall, Hermione was pondering the events. She turned to Ron. “Where were you last night?” she asked, looking curiously at the redhead.  
Ron choked on his eggs a bit and blushed a deep crimson that matched his hair. “I just thought it was time someone said something is all, ‘Mione,” Ron stated, turning to his girlfriend.

Hermione’s face broke out into a wide smile and she grabbed Ron and hugged him tightly. “Ron, that was a wonderfully brave thing to do.”

Ron’s eyes widened and then he smiled, hugging her back. “I just hope it worked,” he said, “The rest is up to those two now.”

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Harry shifted on his feet and stared into the roaring fire of the room with a vengeance. Once again, he found himself avoiding eye contact with someone he was too nervous to face. Severus, however, was watching him wordlessly. They stood in the middle of the living area of Severus’s quarters. The comfortable couches were untouched and the heat of the fire seemed more mocking than warm.

Harry frowned and opened his mouth slowly, his eyes never leaving the fireplace. “Why am I here?”

“You know why you’re here,” came the quick reply.

They weren’t looking at each other, but their presences were strong enough to them. They didn’t need to, and didn’t want to, face each other yet. It made the conversation too real; too grounded. It was easier to keep the quality of disembodiment in the speech, like they were talking to ideas rather than people.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Harry said slowly, shoving a fist into the pocket of his robes.

“Don’t you?” Severus asked, so quietly that Harry could hardly hear him. Severus was gazing into the fire as well, his hands resting lightly on his hips and elbows pointed behind him.

There was silence. Harry knew what he was asking and he knew he owed the man that much. He owed him and explanation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “A few months ago,” he began, pausing to steady his erratic breathing. “I grabbed the wrong drink and took a potion that wasn’t intended for me. That same day, just minutes after I took it… I became interested in you. I’d never had the interest before. I’d never thought about you that way; not once. It was just because I grabbed the wrong goblet.”

“But you took an antidote, I’m sure,” Severus interjected, turning to face the flushed student.

Harry met the other man’s gaze and felt his heart stop as he saw the familiar black coal. “Yes, but-“  
”Then you weren’t always under the influence of the potion,” Severus stated, not really knowing what he wanted his point to be.

“No, I wasn’t,” Harry admitted. “But I’d never had an interest you, Severus. I’d never even batted an eye at you. I hated you!”

Severus frowned deeply. “After the antidote, when the potion was out of your system and you were back to your normal self, did you still hate me?”

Harry looked away, his eyes half-lidded and downcast. “You know I didn’t…”

“Then why say that none of it was real?” Severus said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Why do that to me? After everything that we had… you weren’t under the influence of any blasted potion for that! You were _you_ then. Nothing was controlling you. Nothing was forcing you. Are you telling me that none of that was real?”

“N-no,” Harry stammered, biting the inside of his cheek. “No I…” He looked around the room desperately as if trying to find an escape.

“Harry,” Severus insisted, waiting for the younger man’s eyes to meet his before he continued. “Nothing… none of what we had was fake. It was more real than I can ever really tell you. You’re like my air, Harry. I lived off of you. I saw it in your eyes too. I know you felt more than just the after effects of a potion. Don’t you tell me that wasn’t anything. Don’t you dare take that away from me.” His fists were clenched at his sides now and his eyes swimming with emotions that he could no longer restrain. He was baring his soul. He was giving Harry a chance to finish him off, and he didn’t know why.

“I…” Harry gasped as he pushed back his tears. He clenched his fists into his hair like he was attempting to pull it out. “It wasn’t me! I told you, I never even thought of you before, and I never would have if it weren’t for that damned potion. It wasn’t me!”

“Tell me it wasn’t real,” Severus said suddenly, his voice firm.

Harry’s head shot up and he looked at Severus in shock. “What?” he whispered disbelievingly.

“Tell me that it was all just a dream,” Severus said, his eyes not wavering, “Tell me it was all fake and none of it meant anything. Tell me that while looking right into my eyes. Do that, and I’ll walk away.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, bewildered. He felt his heart jerk and he shook his head slowly. “I can’t…”

“Do it, Harry, and it will all be over,” Severus pressed, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out, pressing Harry’s face upwards by his chin and looking him straight in the eyes.

“Severus, I can’t say that. I can’t,” Harry moaned, feeling a few more tears press their way from behind his eyelids as he saw the fierce determination in the man’s dark eyes.

“Do it,” Severus repeated.

“No, I-“

“Say it!”

“I won’t!”

“Say it, Harry!!!”

“No! I can’t do it! I can’t say it! You know it’s not true!” Harry cried out finally, batting Severus’s hand away and letting his tears fall freely.

“Then why?” Severus growled. “Why in the world are you doing this?” He grabbed Harry’s shoulders roughly.

“I don’t know!” Harry yelled. “I was scared!”

“What the hell are you scared of?” Severus shouted, tightening his vice-like grip on Harry’s shoulders. “That I actually cared about you? That maybe it wasn’t a fucking potion that made you feel that way for me?”

“Yes!” Harry sobbed. Severus froze, his eyes wide. “Yes, that was it, ok?” Harry was shaking now. “I was terrified because I knew a long time ago that the potion couldn’t have possibly made me feel the way I did! I didn’t want to feel that way! I didn’t want to and I got scared that I had gone so far. I wanted to think it was all just a joke. It would have been so much easier!”

“Easier than what?” Severus asked.

Harry swung glittering emerald eyes upwards and Severus was dazzled by the pure, raw emotion glowing within them.

“The pain,” Harry whispered throatily, “The pain that I felt, and it only got worse. It hurt so much and I was petrified. I thought if I ran away from you the pain would go away, but it only got worse. Every time I see you it multiplies. It just gets stronger and stronger until I can’t feel anything else. All I know is that one feeling and I- I can’t deal with it. I can’t stand loving you that much.” Harry bit his lip. “I love you so much it hurts just to think about you. I love you so much my mind just stops working every time I hear your name. I love you so much it kills me and I can’t stand it.” Harry finished breathlessly and waited for Severus to reply. When he didn’t, he got worried. “Sever-?”

Severus pulled him forward so fast Harry’s head went spinning as their lips were crushed together. Harry felt his knees go weak, but Severus held him up desperately as he kissed him with a pent up passion that had been slowly destroying them both. Harry let out a happy sob into the kiss and his arms shot up around Severus’s neck.

The Potions Master brought his hands to cup Harry’s face lovingly, and he ran the pads of his thumbs along Harry’s cheeks, brushing away the semi-dried tears. Harry pulled the man so close to him that he forgot where he ended and Severus began and he opened his mouth to the kiss, letting their tongues dance together like they never had before.

It was the most earnest, powerful kiss they had ever shared. Harry ran his fingers through Severus’s smooth, black hair and Severus began to lead him over to the couch, where he laid Harry down as gently as one would a porcelain doll. Only then did they break apart, and it was for the briefest of moments. They stared at each other with every emotion they had ever possessed in their lives, and the love and tender understanding that they shared was palpable. They felt it flowing through their very veins.

“I love you,” Severus said, his voice strong and absolute.  
”I’ve never loved anyone else,” Harry said, caressing the older man’s cheek. Severus closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

They kissed again, and Harry pulled away. “Severus, I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

“All that matters is that you’re here,” Severus replied. “The past is the past. We all make mistakes. Merlin knows I have. I could never fault you, Harry.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“All I ever did was love you,” Severus answered, running his finger along Harry’s bottom lip.  
”I know,” Harry said, kissing the finger upon his lips. “Thank you.”

Severus responded by pressing their lips together once more, softly this time.

At that moment, Harry’s soul was gone, and in its place was another soul; the soul of Severus Snape.

And that was exactly the way he wanted it to be.

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Harry placed his elbow on the mahogany table and adjusted his glasses. “Knight to E7,” he muttered, watching as the black chess piece waltzed across the board.

Ron, who was sitting across the table from him, grinned and gave a command to his Queen. “Checkmate,” he said proudly, puffing his chest out and grinning even wider when the Queen smashed Harry’s King into a hundred pieces.  
”Bloody hell, Ron,” Harry groaned, slumping back in his chair, defeated. “I haven’t beat you once.”

“I am the master of Wizard Chess, Harry,” Ron gloated.

“Oh cut it out, Ronald,” Hermione mumbled from the couch of the common room. Her nose was currently buried in an Astronomy book that she seemed to find fascinating. “It’s a barbaric game. I don’t see why you’re proud of being good at it.”

Ron pouted over at the bushy-haired girl. “It’s not barbaric, Hermione,” Ron whined, dragging out her name to annoy her. “Its good fun.”

Harry chuckled at Hermione’s eye-roll and jumped as he heard thundering footsteps coming from the staircase leading to the girls’ dormitories. In moments, Lavender Brown appeared at the bottom of the staircase, smiling brightly and looking positively thrilled.

“Guess what?” she asked happily, looking around at the trio.

“What?” The three chorused, looking to her with curiosity.

Lavender held her hand up for them to see. In her fingers was clasped a small, glass phial. “I found my potion!” she said giddily. “Turns out it wasn’t lost after all!”

The three friends stared at her in shock, completely silent.

“What?” Lavender asked nervously. “Was it something I said?”

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THE END

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**OMG. It’s finally done! I don’t know whether or not to jump for joy or cry! This was my first Snarry fanfic ever, and only now have I finally completed it.  
I hope I satisfied you all. Haha. Man, this was the hardest chapter to write, knowing it was going to be over and all.**

**I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been loyally reviewing and reading A Potion. I love you all and am very grateful for your patience. Your reviews were what kept me writing this. They were great!**

**I loved every minute of this.**

**Don’t forget I still have a bunch of others that I’m working on, so it’s not as if this is a complete end! XD Please check out Every Part of Me and The Fallen if your craving for Snarry stories still needs to be sated.**

**Thank you for reading A Potion.**


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